“Shit, they found me out, again,” I yelp without realizing I was talking out loud. “What? Reese, you really need to go to bed it is way to late for this.” Dad says, closing my latest book in his lap. “Dad, I know you, you’re going to go up to your study and work on puzzles until 3am. So why can’t I stay up and find out who I have to pretend to be next?” His thick brown eyebrows climb his wrinkly forehead, “Reesie, you are right about me, but you are going to bed. I don’t like how much you worry about this. You are an amazing writer, just as your Mother was.” _ Was. _ The final word rings in my ears, ricocheting off of every inch of grief left in me. He presses his lips onto the top of my head and mumbles something about keeping me safe under his breath as he heads to the stairs. Gosh, he’s crazy if he thinks I can sleep at a time like this. I have hundreds off ideas flowing, and my mom taught me many techniques to utilize each and every single one of them. I just hope that someday Dad will give in and let me put my own name on the cover of my books, not some made of girl who nobody knows because she doesn’t exist. I take a long sip of my cold water and then quickly get back to writing, my fingers dancing across the keys. I can’t be stopped, it’s like candy, I can’t get enough, and I can’t stop until I’m finished. It’s become quite a problem. I find myself not sleeping most nights because I get carried away in my current project. Most times it’s that, other times it’s the haunting memory of finding my mothers dead body on the side of our road. But that was a long time ago, and after spending all four of those restless years hoping for any answer at all-there wasn’t ever one- I learned to block it all out. _Ohhhh, maybe I could be Chloe Anderson this time, there is no resemblance to Reese Montgomery at all. _ _ _My train of thought is interrupted by a knock at the door. Quick on my feet, I glide to the door. I stand on my toes trying to look in the peephole before opening the door, because who would come here in the middle of the night? After Mom, Dad moved me far from where we used to live. Now it’s just him, his crazy theories, and me. I can’t quite see anything through the hole, which is clearly pretty dusty. My heart quickens. I’ve read about this, and I’ve wrote about it too, even lived it once. Well sorta. I pull the door open slightly, enough to see the person at the door, but not enough for them to try anything. An older man, maybe in his late sixties, stands outside. A thick coat is slumped over him and his hood is pulled over his eyes, casting a dark shadow across his face. I hear my Dad at the top of the stairs, he isn’t moving toward me though, just checking in I guess. He can’t even fully see the door, or me from where he is sitting. “C-can I help you, sir?” I ask, fidgeting with a piece of fuzz in the pocket of my hoodie. He looks up at me, finally allowing me to see his eyes. They widen slightly, as if he wasn’t expecting me to speak first. My blond hair blows off of my shoulder from the icy wind outside. A moment of scilence fills the air between us, “Sir?” “Right.” His tone is low, and slightly unsettling. “Are you Reese Montgomery?” My heart bounces off of my ribs, and the color fades from my face, “Yeah, um why?” He lunges forward, grabbing hold of my boney wrist. “Listen, I need you to not panic, and I need you to pay close attention.” He releases my wrist. “I know what happened to your mother.” The muscles in his neck tighten as he studies my face for a reaction. Oh. Oh. _ _“Tell me,” I say. Those were the only words I could force out of my now shaking body. “Tell me, you have to tell me.” “I also know that they are coming for you next.” A shiver rolls down my spine, and all off a sudden I feel like I might throw up. I pull the door fully open. “Why don’t you come in.” He hesitates for a moment seeing Dad sitting at the top of the stairs, and then follows me to the living room. Dad follows too, but then decides to dip out and head to the kitchen instead. “S-so…?” I stutter. “I hacked into the plans whoever this man is and found out everything from your mothers murder to his plans to well… kill you.” He rummages through his pocket and pulls out a small photograph. “Why? Why did they do this?” He shrugs, his eyes growing wide, “I’d assume your mother wrote about him in one of her world famous novels, and killing only her wasnt enough. But I did find this,” he says, handing over the picture. “This was in his plans, it’s a picture off him, er- the killer.” I reach over for the photo. A short man sits in frame with ruffled brown hair and a pair of magnifying goggles over his eyes. I know those goggles anywhere. “T-that’s my dad…” I stutter as I feel a knot of anxiety creeping up my throat. I gaze at Dad through the corridor, a tear slipping down my cheek. The man next to me stiffens, “O-okay, Reese, we need to get you out of here…” I stand, followimg close behind this man I’ve never met until today. I don’t think Dad noticed our absence but if he did, this probably won’t end well. “Where are you to going?” Dad says approaching us from the spot he has stood the entire time in the kitchen. I keep my head low, expecting the man to speak up, he doesn’t. “Dad I-“ but before I can finish, the man pulls a long sharp knife from the inside of his coat. He uses he free hand and wraps it around my waist, pulling me into him. My heart practically explodes, but I’m frozen, hardly able to fight it. “am an absolute waste of space that believes men she’s never met and agrees to leave the house with them,” he finishes my sentence, and then looks down to me. “Your mother would not be very proud,” he says, a wicked grin spreading wide across his face. I try to fight his grip, but I can’t, and Dad lunges forward forcefully trying to pry me from the man’s grip. It’s to late. The man shoves Dad back into the wall, sending me flying. But before I get it together and do literally anything, he has me pinned against the floor. “Say hello to your mother for me,” he says, and then plunges the knife into my abdomen. I let out an ear piercing scream as the pain shoots in every direction and everything starts to fade, becoming dark and fuzzy, until there is nothing at all.