preview

Creative Writing: Agent Callaway

Decent Essays
Open Document

"Have you received any more white roses after that first evening?" Agent Callaway asks, breaking the silence.

After telling him about discarding one of the key pieces of evidence, the room had grown rather quiet. Everyone had been looking at me, attempting to comprehend why I would throw away something that important.

"Yes, almost every night," I half-whisper, not wanting to lie anymore. "A couple days ago, this came with the rose. It's the only physical message he's sent so far."

I pass the note to Callaway, who examines it carefully. Officer Jenkins' eyes narrow at me as he questions my words. "What do you mean by 'only physical message'?"

A panicking feeling rises to my throat as I try to figure out what to say. I can't tell them …show more content…

"No, that's it."

His eyes narrow. "Are you sure, Skylar?"

I nod quickly, "Yes."

Agent Callaway sighs and stands up, his posture slumped like he’s exhausted. "Make sure all of your windows are locked at night, and if he drops by again, let me know. I'll make sure I have agents assigned to watch over you and your mother, Skylar."

I nod again, pulling myself to my feet. I extend my hand for Officer Jenkins, and then Agent Callaway to shake. When Jenkins takes my hand, his grip is firm, and it almost crushes my fingers. The look in his eyes is unpleasant, and I try not to squirm under his gaze. It's almost as if he's trying to read my mind, unearth everything that I haven't told them. He seems almost too interested about what has gone on for the past few weeks, so intrigued that he had snapped at an FBI agent. Finally, his grip lessens and he mutters quietly, "We'll see you soon, Melanie."

By the neutral looks on everyone's faces, I can tell they didn't hear what he had said. I rip my hand away, giving him a small glare. My skin is still crawling from Jenkins' words when I shake Callaway’s …show more content…

"Skylar? I think we need to talk," she says quietly.

•••

Mom's 'talk' lasts for over two hours. She pries me for anything about my stalker that she should be concerned with, and I tell her the same thing I told the police. I’m not going to worry her any further than I already have. What I want to talk about with her is the day my stalker mentioned. What happened on that night that he wants me to know about…that is the real question. After a few minutes of silence, Mom finally lets me head up to my room when I finish talking about the roses for the fifth time.

By now, it's eight in the evening, and I'm almost too tired to stand. This past night, I was up until six in the morning, too frightened to even close my eyes. Images of my stalker trying to enter my room have never stopped flashing in my mind since it had happened.

After checking the lock on the window at least three times, I climb into bed, pulling the covers over my face as I always used to as a child.

No nightmares…no nightmares.

Closing my eyes, I drift off into a deep sleep.

Get Access
Related
Get Access