Standing in a dim and sunless apartment room, a shadow looms over a boy as a small box television blares nearby. Papers and tools are scattered everywhere across the floor and furniture. An intensifying light, which was being produced from the television screen, captures the boy’s attention. He raises a brow, almost troubled as he reads the captions being broadcasted on the evening news.

“BREAKING NEWS: There has been a sudden bombing attack in Winston County that has left many shocked.”
His breathing hitched as the images from the scene displayed familiar houses. The broadcast showed many lifeless bodies being carried away into ambulances as well as service members attempting to contain the mass panic. Witnesses gather in tears looking for their loved ones through the scattered debris. A newscaster solemnly describes the perpetrator:

“Witnesses from the scene describe the man to have curtained dark brown hair, piercing brown eyes, deathly pale skin, a messy white t-shirt, and ripped blue jeans.” A police sketch of the described man pops up on the screen. Recognizing the description and images, the boy froze. He flinched as he heard multiple creaks from the wooden floorboard behind him. The frail boy was too scared to move an inch as he was not aware that there was another person in the room.

‘Maybe it’s the old woman from nextdoor?’ The boy thought to himself. The old woman next door was nice, but too naive for his liking. She was the type of person that would do any tasks for anyone. However, something seemed off to the boy. Around this time, the old woman would usually be blaring classical music throughout her suite, which would always annoy the boy at night. Noticing the strange silence, he looked around to find out what the time was. But to his dismay, he noticed that a hand with red stains was peeking out from the other side of the couch. The kid gulped as he went over to it, feeling his anxiety rise as he drew closer and closer.

The boy instantly covered his mouth as he found the frail old woman lying still on the ground. Her eyes lifeless and mouth wide open as if her last moments were in mid scream. His eyes widened due to the discovery of the body and he instantly jumped back… right into something hard. The young boy winced as glass shatters behind him. Realizing he knocked over an end table with a picture frame, he thought, “When did I get that end table?”. Breathing heavily, the boy knelt down to pick up the frame and found himself startled by another wood board creaking. He turned around sharply to find an old man looming over him. The boy was paralyzed by fear as he put together the pieces of the familiar face.

“Y-You’re that g-guy from the news!” The boy stuttered out as he slowly began to walk backwards. The tall man smiled at the boy’s trembling body, revealing his yellow and crooked teeth. The stranger lurked in front of him and started to repeat one word, revealing his raspy and dry voice. The boy quickly ran out of the living room and down into the hallway, attempting to reach the foyer. He was running so fast that he did not notice the equipment that was blocking the entry way. Suddenly, the boy finds himself face first onto the dusty wooden floor to reveal his ankle caught in a wire. The boy rushed to get his ankle free and winced when he felt a sharp pain emitting from his face. His clenched fists release the broken picture frame to apply pressure to his nose where the vibrant pain was. Whilst lifting himself up, he catches sight of the picture in the frame revealing an older couple smiling. Not recognizing the old man, he suddenly realizes the photograph is of the sweet old lady he just witnessed lifeless on the floor. Confused, he looks around what suddenly seems to be an unfamiliar home.

“Why is there so much stuff lying around here?” He thought while examining the strange tools in front of him. “How did I get into the old lady’s house?” , he asked himself, flustered. As much as he wanted to, he had no time to think of these things due to the sudden touch felt on his shoulder.
The boy’s heart raced as he felt a cold breath reach to the nape of his neck, causing goosebumps to rise. The raspy voice grew louder and louder as the brown haired boy finally decided to push the figure away and run into the bathroom. He quickly slammed the door and covered his ringing ears with his clammy hands to block out the strangers voice. Yet, as much as his fingers trembled, he could not refrain from hearing that same word. The small boy felt his heart beat erratically and his breathing hitched. ‘Why me?’ His thoughts rambled on as he thought about how he got into this situation.

Suddenly, there was silence from the other side of the door.

‘Is he gone?’ He thought to himself, waiting in silence. The boy finally sighed in relief until he felt a tap on his shoulder that made him flinch. His eyes widened in disbelief.

“No no no! H-How did he-” The shaking boy bit his lips as he suddenly stood up and whipped behind him to strike a punch at the psychopath.

*CRACK*

Staring aimlessly ahead, he slowly drew his bloodied hand from the broken glass mirror.
In the shattered reflection, was an older man with curtained dark brown hair, piercing brown eyes, crooked yellow teeth, and deathly pale skin. He wore a blood-stained white t-shirt and ripped blue jeans…

Repeating the word:
“Murderer”