Another death. The letter A embedded on the skin of the dead body.

The ground trembles at his steps. Deadly wind wafts through the area; very much deadly it kills the grasses sprouting up the ground. The man with his simple black tees, faded jeans and shiny black shoes clicks his mouth at the sight of a dead girl's body. "How unfortunate." He kneels beside the girl's body. His hands move in a circular motion and a large, thick maroon leather book appears, afloat, in front of him.

"Andrea Gonzalez." He flips through its pages and finds the name. In slow motions, he hovers his hands up and down the body, then yanks them backwards. "It's time for you to go now, little missy. The body's dead. Or do you want to stay with that dead piece of flesh?" he says.

The faded gray entity he yanked out of the body growls at him. Fury settles into its eyes. He lifts his hand up to its face, "Now, now, we don't do that here." The strength courses through his arms, dark green veins pop out at the familiar force.

"Tell that to them instead." With a push of his hand, the entity flies backwards and into a swirling grey void. He turns his back with a click of his tongue and dusts his hands off. "Rabid entities are the worst."

He takes one last look at the lifeless body and walks away. A car zooms past him, but the waves of brown hair ignites the fire in his brain. The car slows down in front of a huge red, steeled gate. I see you live in this area. A smile, neither malicious nor friendly, worms its way unto his lips. Once again, the ground trembles at his steps.

7 a.m. is not a good time to wake up to, especially when it's accompanied by the telephone ringing. Fran yawns as she sluggishly wears her pajama shirt. Annoyed, she slams the phone down and silence washes over her house. She opens her fridge and takes out two eggs, pulls out her pans, opens her stove, sprays oil over the pan and dumps the eggs, and all the while, the telephone blasted through her house again.

She picks it up and yells at the caller. "What?"

"I see you're as grumpy as ever, Vester." The husky voice over the telephone spoke, igniting the annoyance all over her again.

She slumps on the couch and takes a deep breath before speaking. "What do you want, Lowell?" She picks up the remote on her coffee table. The TV buzzes on and the female reporter starts talking. Lowell's words going straight out of Vester's ears.

I shouldn't have answered. I shouldn't have answered.

That thought cycles through her mind. Her hands itches to put the phone down. But somehow, something compels her to keep listening. "They asked me to call you." That sentence is enough to tell her, this call is not a pleasant catch up between old colleagues.

Her eyes are still trained onto the TV. Bodies are covered in grey sheets and maroon liquid is splattered on the ground. "What do they want this time? Haven't I made it clear that I'm done with that job? Stop bothering me already!" She slams the phone down and trains her eyes back to the TV.

Another report of death.

A girl. Between 17 to 18 years old. Brunette, slim bodied with a freckled face. And the letter A carved onto the arm of the victim. Brutal. The only word she can describe the murder.

She's seen this type of murder before. More than once, actually. People thought the culprit's been caught, but based upon this new case, the culprit's out in the open. Her thoughts circle back to similar past cases and things didn't add up. I didn't kill them. The words of the convicted rings through her ears. Although unreliable, she can't help but think there's more to this case than what's been publicized.

***

She slips on her pink shirt and a grey blazer on top. She has on a black trouser and her black pumps clack on the floor noisily. Her lips are as red as cherry and her eyebrows are done so sleek paired with a magnificent blend of black and glittery gold eyeshadow.

Grabbing her keys and bag, she exits her house. Assured that her door is locked and windows are all closed, she enters her car and drives away. Locking her doors and windows are only second measures to her security. With all the money she's saved from her old job, she managed to build a very secured gate for her home.

The sensors in her gate only recognize her car by the plate number and unrecognized cars will set the sensors to send an alarm straight to her phone.

Fran parks her car beside a grey Sedan. She recognizes that car. What is she doing here? Her keys dangle on her hands as she walks towards the building. Noisy kids greet her as she opens the door. "Good morning, kids!"

She places her bag on the desk situated at the far right corner of the room. The kids chorus a hello and sit on their respective seats. A smile graced her lips to see the children's obedience. "How are you today?"

A child raises his hand and stands up. Fran nods her head in the child's direction. "Yes?"

"Teacher Fran, Reign is not here yet." She looks around the room to find one missing kid. She smiles at the child and walks to the door. Peering outside, a white Audi S7 parks a few distance from her car.

A small tan boy emerges from the car along with his nanny. As the boy sees her watching from the door, he waves at her enthusiastically. She reciprocates it with a smile and a small wave. She opens the door for the boy and goes back to the other children. "Reign is outside. He is just a little late." Fran takes the paper scattered on her table and passes it on to the children. "Thank you for telling me, Dean." She hands the little boy a piece of paper and proceeds to the others.

A woman who seems to be in her early 30's enters the room with a boy wearing black hoodie paired with jeans and rubber shoes. Fran welcomes the boy with a warm smile. "Good morning, Miss Francine. We're very sorry for being late." The woman tugs the boy beside her.

She shakes her head at the woman and kneels in front of the boy. She's about to speak when she sees the red, swollen slit in the boy's lip. Fran caresses the boy's face near his bruised lip.

Creases form on her forehead as she scans the boy's face for more bruises or wounds. Thankfully, it's the only one. "We'll talk later, okay?" she whispers to the boy. Fran messes his hair and gets up. "Go to your seat now, Reign." She turns to the woman and smiles. She loves her job but the amount of times she has to smile for others is wearing her out. "It's fine, Hilda." she says.

She has never been a fan of pleasantries. Her old job allowed her to be as rude as she can be, which she did not have a hard time with. Picking up a piece of paper from her desk, she places it in front of Reign and calls for the children's attention towards the board.

Fran never pictured herself as a teacher. But, after quitting her job, teaching has been the most convenient option. She got lucky enough that around the time she quit, there had been an opening in her town's daycare center. Adjusting to her new job has been the most difficult thing she had to do.

Children have the shortest attention span, so she has to do everything in her will not to get annoyed and urge the children back to listening to her. She has to please the children to get them to do their work.

And the parents! Oh gosh, the parents are what she hates the most. Most of the kids in her daycare are from rich, snobby people, so she suffers from their constant nitpicking at her job. For reasons, she doesn't know. But, she has learned to ignore them over time.

Fran's ringtone blasted across the room, startling the children and their guardians from packing their belongings. She mutters a low "sorry," and answers her phone. She exits the room and looks at the name flashing on her screen. Lowell. As she reads the name on her screen, she lets out a sigh but answers the call anyway. "What is it again, Lowell?"

"I need you to listen to me." The tone of his voice is so familiar to her. They have gone through several jobs together and that was the exact same tone he'll give her when he's dead serious. Lowell is the only colleague she admires for his work. He does his job effortlessly and without fail. "Vester, your parents are in danger."

Her breath hitches at his words. "Don't mess with me, Lowell." She brushes a hand over her hair.

"I'm not," he says. And she believes him. Lowell has never fooled around with her and he knows how important her parents are to her. And his voice. Something about his voice has always made Fran believe every word he says.

"Why? And how are they in danger?" She paces around the hall. The joyful chatter of her students is now replaced by silence. She goes back inside the room and grabs her bag. Her heels clack against the tiled floor furiously. The nerves in her body rose and ebbed. She checks her phone to see if Lowell is still on the line and the call is still connected. "Lowell?"

"Sorry, I was watching them. They went up to your parents and asked for you. Vester, this is a warning. If you don't face them, your parents will pay for it." She can feel her feet losing its strength. She plants her back onto the wall for support and slides down onto the floor. Tears pool in her eyes and roll down her cheeks like waterfalls. Her sobs fill the phone call. "Vester, this is not the time to be crying!"

She calms her breathing and wipes the tears on her face. "You know why I quit, Lowell. I don't want that life again. The constant fear and worry, I don't want that again! Why won't they leave me alone?" Her soft voice turned loud and hysterical. Her sobs continue once more while her heart clenches.

She feels for her feet and gets up once she finds the strength to do so. "I'll do everything in my power to keep my parents safe, but I'm not going back," she says.

The loud sigh over the phone puts a frown on her face. That's a first. He's never been irritated by me before. "You're strong, Vester. And smart. But you're no match against them. Your only option is going back or risk getting your parents hurt!" Him yelling at the end, surprises her more than anything. This is also the first time she's heard him yell at her.

Has she really pushed him too far? But she doesn't care. "I know what I'm doing---"

"No, you're not!"

"Stop raising your voice at me!" She's had enough of him yelling. She doesn't care if she's being frustrating, but he does not have any control over her.

Another sigh came from over the phone. "Vester, listen. They don't care if you come back alive or dead. But, I'd much rather prefer to see you alive, so please, just do as I say and come back. For your parent's safety. This is unnecessary trouble for them, Vester. Let them live their lives without any worry." She ponders over his words. Breathing sounds take over the phone call.

She reaches her car, enters it and wears her seatbelt. She puts the ignition on and says, "I'll be there." She maneuvers out the parking space but fails to notice someone standing before her car. "Holy shi-" Fran slams on the brakes in a hurry. "What were you thinking, Agatha? I could've crashed into you! Fuck!" Fran grabs her hair, frustration welling up in her chest.

"I'm sorry, Fran. I've been calling you but you didn't hear me. Is there something wrong? You look so stressed." Agatha steps towards her and swipes her hair away from her eyes.

Fran sighs. It's no use getting mad at her. Ever since she met Agatha, she has seen how reckless the girl could be. "It's just… Something came up at home. Did you want something from me?"

Agatha shakes her head and offers Fran a smile. "No. I just wanted to talk to you. But, I won't keep you here. You seem to be in a hurry. I was just worried." Fran smiles back at her. She waves her hand and opens her car door.

"Alright then, see you." Fran drives off while Agatha stares at the small form of her zooming car. Well, time is running but I have plenty of them.