Chapter 39 Psycho
VICTORIA
The moment I pulled the cover open, the nauseating scent of my mother's dark coffee hit my face. I took in a deep breath and felt my belly knot at the memories that flashed across my eyes.
I looked at her name written in bold letters, then glanced up at the date at the top of the diary.
It was exactly thirty years ago when she began using the diary. I sucked in a deep breath and slowly darted to the first words of the book.
‘Guess who gave me this diary? Grandma, yes, that grandma. She told me to write all my fears in it. She told me not to leave a page out.’
I closed my eyes and gripped the sheets on the bed I was lying on.
I sucked in a deep breath again and looked at the book again.
‘Mani caught a fever today, so I had to come home and take care of him. It annoys me whenever he acts like he's about to die. It's just a mild cold!’
I paused and chuckled at my mom's complaint against my dad.
Even though they loved each other, they still fought over the smallest things.
I moved over to the next page and kept reading the fun moments of my mom's life.
From the first part of the diary, one would think that my mom had never had any sad moments in her life. She wrote mostly about herself, her husband, and her children.
She wrote me falling from the stairs, Michael ditching school to play soccer in another town without her knowledge, Connor flirting around with the girls in school, and James?
James wasn't born then when she began using the diary.
I flipped through the pages, suddenly becoming dizzy. I had yawned multiple times, and my eyes were getting heavy from reading about the normal life of my mom.
I knew most of the events written in here, and funnily, some of them were wrong, especially the fight I always had with Olivia.
She was the one who always looked for a fight, then cried when I beat her up. My mom and everyone else always thought I was the one who tormented her without a reason.
I yawned again and ran my hand through my hair, trying so hard to stay awake. I had gone past the middle of the diary, yet there was no mention of that man or my mom's ordeal that I had read about years ago.
Did my father destroy it? Or did the man tamper with it already?
I shook my head, trying to shake off the sleep that was threatening to engulf me.
I ran my hand through my hair again and released a sigh.
“One more page, just one more page, and I'll go to bed and continue tomorrow,” I murmured, finally succumbing.
I flipped to the next page, glaring sleepily at the blurry lines.
I felt a shiver run through me when the word ‘black rose’ caught my eye.
My eyelids pulled open, and I jerked up in shock. The sleep that was weighing me down had disappeared, and the only thing on my mind was that phrase.
“Black rose. This is it," I whispered as I began to read the words on the page.
‘I received a black rose today. I know he sent it, that dumbass, shouldn't he leave me alone?’
I gasped out and stared at the words, my heart clenching in anger and confusion.
Even my mom wished for him to leave her alone, yet the bastard still haunted her even after her death.
I flipped to the next page and stared at the words.
‘He dropped another flower by the balcony again. I think I should call the cops the next time I catch him around.’
‘Manuel saw the flower today and asked about it. I feel so guilty for lying to him. It's time I let that monster know that I'll never go to him. I belong to my husband and children and no one else.’
My fist clenched, and I gripped the sheets, seething in rage.
“That bastard! I wish I could kill you!" I spat in anger.
My hands shook in anger as I turned the page over to read what torment my mom went through the next day.
I sent him a letter to his house up on the hillside. I hope he reads it and never comes back here with that cursed flower.’
My eyes dimmed in confusion as I stared at the word. I took out a crayon and underlined the location my mother went to.
I took out a notepad and pen, then began to scribble down the things that could connect the dots.
‘It's been over three days, and he hasn't dropped the flower. It seems like he has finally respected his boundaries and left me alone.’
I sighed and scribbled down the date, then straightened up and rubbed my forehead. If he stopped visiting, then why did he get obsessed when she died?
I turned over to the next page, but the words caused shivers to rush down my spine.
‘He came back! He is watching me from my window right now. I have shut the glasses, but he is still standing there on the balcony watching me. Maybe I should tell Manuel about it.’
I gasped loudly, and the book dropped from my hand. I rubbed my arm, which was full of goosebumps, and reached for the coffee on top of the drawer. I gulped down the lukewarm coffee and slammed the cup down, heaving loudly.
He never left. Instead, he haunted her even more. He watched her every night, even after she sent a warning. The man was sick! I needed no one to convince me anymore.
I would do whatever I had to do to find him. I didn't care how or when.
Who in their right senses would trouble a married woman with kids just because you like her?
I wondered what kind of relationship he had with my mother to be so obsessed with her.
“This is crazy!" I sighed and ran my hand over my hair, then closed the diary.
Firstly, I had to look for the hill where the man lived. I had two complicated cases facing me.
One involved me, and the other my mother. Could this be some kind of coincidence or fate?
I shook my head and dropped the diary in my drawer. After locking the drawer, I straightened up and headed to bed with different questions in my head.
I wanted to finish reading the diary tonight, but I couldn't bring myself to. The fear and pain that engulfed me wouldn't let me turn another page to see what trauma my mom was going through.
As I was about to lie down, my head swerved towards the window, and I felt my heart flip at the sight outside the window.
Right in the old woman's driveway was a man staring up at me. A black hat was over his head, cigarette in hand, and his face was cut off and hidden in the dark.
My heart clenched, and a chilly air hit me as I stared at him in horror.
He slowly looked up at me, his eyes piercing deep into my soul.
The killer knew about the diary, and he was repeating and making me go through exactly what my mom went through.
I was sure his lips twitched into a smile before he turned around and walked away from the driveway.
I let out another gasp and slumped down into the bed, gripping my nightdress.
This confirmed everything I needed to know.
If I wanted to find the serial killer, I needed to find that psycho who troubled my mother.