Stephanie was a wreck. She couldn't sleep, she couldn't eat. All she could think about was poor Mr. Evans and all of the people who killed him. All of them pretending like they were sad or trying to bring justice to the situation.
Stephanie parted her patchwork curtains and stared outside at the damp sidewalks glistening in the sunshine. Several things crossed her mind in the aftermath of the storm. "I've seen injustice," she thought, "Chicago, thats a messed up place. Police brutality, gangs, but this, this is worse than I could have imagined." Stephanie looked with horror at the town she once admired for its lack of, well, anything now scared her more than her past in the city.
"How could they all have done this?" She tried to think of an explanation, anything that might justify a murder, but she couldn't. What Stephanie saw that night was absolutely terrifying. Not one, not two, but seven people were there when Mr. Evans was murdered. "And there must be more," she deduced. In her vision the shortest one made a call, telling whoever was on the other line the 'deed' was done.
All Stephanie could think about was what what sweet Mr. Evans could have done to make a group of people: a cult, want to kill him.
As Stephanie sat by the window lost in thought, footsteps approached the door. "Who lives in apartment 201?" the officer Wilkes asked his sergeant. "Uhh says here a Miss Stephanie Lovett."
"Geez forget it. She's crazy."
At that moment Stephanie snapped out of her daze and heard the voice of the officer. She knew that voice from the phone call in her vision.
She ran across the apartment and threw the door open just in time to see the pair round the corner. Stephanie knew: Officer Wilkes wasn't looking for Mr. Evans killer, he was looking to quiet anyone who might know something about his dirty secret.
Stephanie didn't know who she could trust, but she knew for the time being she needed to stay quiet and "crazy" to avoid ending up like Mr. Evans.
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