7

Morning came once more. The sun's rays peeked through the curtains; however, the air was still cold. Nothing to do today. The apartment stood still and empty. The ticking of the clock was the only sound that could be heard. It was dimly lit in my bedroom while I was wrapped in a cocoon made of my quilt with only my head poking out.

"Good Morning…"

I jolted to sit up on the bed to see Renoir, sitting cross-legged at the end of my bed with a small smile. My hair was slightly dishevelled from sleeping and I had some sleep at the inner corners of my eyes. I probably looked hideous. I had completely forgotten yesterday's encounter with a ghost who is attractive that needs me to find his sister's killer. When I word it like that in my head, I'm still questioning my sanity.

"G-good morning…" I managed to stutter out a reply as I bring the quilt up to my chest to keep me warm from the coldness of my bedroom.

"Do you want me to put the heater on?"

He immediately got off the bed and, assumingly, went through the wall to switch on the heater. I still couldn't comprehend that this was going to be my life from now on until I have uncovered his sister's murderer. I found out that Renoir has been watching me for roughly more than a month without me knowing which is extremely concerning.

My legs now hang on the edge of my bed while I rub the sleep from my eyes, drifting in and out of consciousness. With a yawn coming, my hands covered my mouth and I closed my eyes only to open them to see Renoir crouching in front of me on the floor. It was too early in the morning for these jump-scares.

"Renoir… please stop randomly appearing… I'm gonna have a heart attack at some point."

Almost immediately, he kneeled and bowed while apologizing with the utmost sincerity. If it weren't for my palpitating heart, I would have felt so horrible for having him apologize to me in such a manner.

It's been a while since I had someone greet me with 'good morning' the moment I wake up. When I was a small child, every morning, without fail, my mother would tickle me awake and greet me with her gleaming smile that I always said was as bright as the sun. My father, a simple Senior police officer, would give me my breakfast with a silly face causing me to giggle. My parents were simple and kind people who'd, no matter what, go out of their way to help those in need. They were saints in every way. Literally and figuratively.

However, it's always the good people that end up becoming the victim of the darkness because of their never-ending kindness. I came home from school, no older than 10 years old, to find the front door of my house to be obliterated into splinters while the hinges swung loosely as they hung on the last screw attached to the door frame. My sweaty palms grasped at the end of my jumper as fear paralysed me upon hearing my mother's cries and my father's yells. Their cries and yells were blood-curdling and a towering figure came into my view. Arms painted with tattoos of dragons and brass knuckles shone like rings on his fingers. His plain white shirt splattered with fresh blood – some dripping from the mask he wore.

I wanted to scream. But I couldn't. The man's rough hand grabbed me by my collar, dragging me into the house I once called home. My house was drowning in my parent's blood. In the lounge, where my father was restrained by chains that suffocated him by the throat, while my mother had her arms splayed on our chopping board with a knife slowly, but repeatedly piercing her skin.

The men menacingly cackled as they watched our family grovel and bleed. With her dying breath, she said 'I love you' before her blood poured out of her throat. Then, everything went dark.

Before I knew it, my father was apprehended by the police as the Child Protection Services sent me to an orphanage because I refused, again and again, to be brought to a foster home. My father then was accused of manslaughter in court – they said he murder my mother.

***

"How has she been?"

His deep voice said lowly as he faced the window with his back facing his secretary.

In his office window shone streetlights, corporate office lights and the stars. His office was on the top floor of his company building, it was so high up he was almost sitting amongst the clouds.

"Sir, yesterday at 9:30 am, I had spotted her at a coffee shop. She was there with Mr Martin Stevens, the Lawyer. She was later spotted at the mall with, who I presume is another university student. Both she and the guy stayed with each other in the grocery store and until she headed home, where she then picked up Jason Trainer – her neighbour's child."

His secretary reported in a monotonous tone with his arms at his sides.

"What about the boy, Renoir Cruise?"

"He was tailing her the entire time. Didn't leave her side for a second."

The man heaved with a sigh, slowly spinning around to finally face his secretary who was covered in a slick, black suit that had a grey turtleneck underneath.

"Are you sure this boy is not attempting to harm her in any way? His soul, as you know, Andre, could become malevolent at any point in time."

"I can guarantee her safety so long as she hasn't found it."

His gaze left his secretary, moved to the bright screen of his computer which displays an email sent from his doctor, then to the photo frame placed on his desk which had a happy couple smiling brightly in the middle of a park as the dead leaves pooled at their feet.