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"Let us begin by stating the date: Sunday, January 23rd, 2005. This is Detective Emilio, alongside Chief Gregorio. Today, we will be asking you some questions regarding the possible murder of Marcos Miraflores. Let us start off by telling us your name?"

_ "Melina Miraflores."_

"And how old are you?"

"26"

"And you've been living in the town of Pimentel for roughly 5 years alongside your husband Marcos, correct?"

"Yes, officer."

"Marcos was a man of high income, being a well known fishermen in the area, in charge of several fishing ships. You, Melina, at the time of this recording, has no children, and is a housewife, correct?"

"Yes, officer."

"So tell me: where were you the night Marcos was murdered? That being January 20th, 2005?"

"I was at home, finished cleaning up the kitchen..."

"Did you receive any calls from him?"

"No, officer."

"You were by yourself, correct?"

"Yes, officer."

"If you don't mind me asking: how was your relationship with Marcos?"

"..."

"Mrs. Miraflores?"

"..."

Melina didn't seem to move at all, frozen on the spot, simply looking down at the small tape recorder placed right in front of her. She didn't seem to acknowledge the presence of both the detective and the chief sitting directly in front of her, separated by a simple metallic table, all three of them inside a tiny interrogation room, complete with the two way mirror right beside them. There was an awkward silence, the only noise being the faint humming of a fan rotating above their heads. For a few seconds, none of them made a move, until finally, detective Emilio reached over to press a button on the recorder, ending the tape, before taking a look at the woman in front of him.

Melina Miraflores was quite a beautiful woman, a woman who almost looked indifferent to the detective's actions. She was dressed in an oily black skirt suit, buttoned up completely, along with some black high heels. Her expression was up for debate, her eyes covered completely by a pair of equally dark shades, the lens having a dark tint of purple, shrouding her in complete mystery. Her light brown hair rested gently on her shoulders, looking a bit untidy. The detective also noticed how she wasn't wearing any earrings, and her nails looked like a complete mess, some of them with no paint at all. No jewelry could be seen, not even her engagement ring, something Emilio couldn't help but feel slightly suspicious about.

As he slowly sat back down, it was Melina who looked upwards, getting a good look at both men interrogating her: Detective Emilio was a tall, brooding man, complete with the well-kept mustache and black hair swiftly combed back, held in place by gel. He was dressed in his detective clothing, complete with his badge and his handcuffs, which hanged from his belt. Despite looking quite elegant, his face was the complete opposite: he looked exhausted, his eyes looking rather wasted, and clearly looked like he hasn't had any sleep for the past few days.

Chief Officer Gregorio, on the other hand, looked fresh and ready for action, the short and round man clearly looking irritated by the lack of interest from Melina.

"You have no idea how severe this problem is, don't you, Mrs. Miraflores?" Detective Emilio spoke, his irritation starting to show.

"It's not that I don't know." The widow replied, "it's just that quite frankly, I don't care."

"Would you like us to show you what we've found in the crime scene?" Emilio asked, as he silently signaled his partner to hand him over a Manila folder from within his bag. Melina merely nodded, watching how the Detective quickly opened the folder, slipping out a few documents held together by a paper clip, placing them aside as he pulled out multiple photographs, all of them printed in large paper to get a better look. Without any warning or sense of hesitation, the man pushed the photos towards Melina, who tilted her head as she began her inspection.

They were certainly very graphic, graphic enough to cause the widow to place a hand over her mouth in utter shock, or at least that was what the Detective assumed. Instead of gasping and breaking down in tears, Melina was actually yawning, her expression remaining as blank as ever as she caught sight of the brutal sight upon her: it was located in Marcos' luxurious private resort, near the Pimentel lighthouse, a resort completely secluded and offering a wonderful view of the Peruvian coastline. However, instead of looking inviting, the resort now looked like something straight out of a horror movie.

A literal human torso, completely mangled, with the face completely unrecognizable, could be seen right beside the pool, with other body parts scattered all over the place. The once smooth marble floor, was now covered in nothing but blood, splattered all over the place as if someone had brutally exploded on the spot, and indeed that is what it looked like. The gruesome crime scene was, of course, surrounded by policemen, all of them wearing gloves and special glasses, as they were carefully picking up something from the ground.

It was revealed in the next photo, that it was clothing, clothing that belonged to her husband Marcos. She knew, deep inside, that this was undeniably his white Lacoste shirt, now ripped into shreds and covered in blood, along with his recognizable pair of black cargo shorts, and finally his iconic pair of black Valentino sunglasses, something that never seemed to leave his head, no matter where he went. One of the lenses had popped out, the other one being cracked. Melina simply sighed as she put the pictures aside, taking a look at the rest, which were only pictures of the same mangled corpse and the same ruined clothing only from different angles, which didn't lower the gore factor one bit.

"These are indeed his clothing." Melina said in a cold manner, "Whether or not that is his corpse or not, that would have to be confirmed by a professional."

"Ma'am, not to offend, but..." Emilio interrupted, squinting at the lady, "...don't you feel even the slightest of sympathy for your husband? He was brutally murdered, and its like if you don't seem to care at all..."

"If I'm already being seen as the main suspect, you can do all the investigation you want, Detective." The woman replied, now gazing back at him, "But I can assure you, that no assassin, no hitman, no deranged wife, no human being at all, would be savage enough to massacre a man like this. This is not a taunt, but rather to let you know that you're wasting your time if you expect to extract any 'information' from me, because I have none."

"You still haven't answered my question." Emilio said sternly, "You do understand that you're a widow now, no children to speak of?"

"Would you like to know why I've been in the kitchen that night, Detective Emilio?"

The man remained silent, with Melina taking it as an indication to continue. But, instead of speaking, all she did was simply remove her sunglasses, slowly closing them as she placed them on the metallic table, right next to the recorder. Emilio found himself looking rather concerned now, with Chief Gregorio cringing on the spot: Melina, the rather beautiful woman, revealed as to why she had the sunglasses on in the first place and refused to remove them when she arrived at the police station that morning.

She sported a horrific black eye, one that almost closed it entirely. She quietly removed a pack of baby wipes from her small purse, gently pulling out a sheet before wiping a tear which slowly fell out from the said eye.

A once beautiful face, which now had to be covered by sunglasses and long hair, a sight that immediately garnered sympathy from the detective, but by then, Melina had enough.

"Don't worry about the eye, Detective Emilio. But, I repeat myself: would you like to know why I was cleaning the kitchen that night? Because Marcos was in a rage, like any other night when he drank too much. He would refuse the meal I had spent hours cooking for him, and in an attempt to calm him down...this just happened. Threw the pot to the ground, leaving me to mop and clean the kitchen for about an hour or two." Melina said softly, her eyes starting to fill up, even her swollen eye, "This wasn't something new between me and him, and certainly nothing new among the housewives and their husbands of this town. If you're expecting me to be wailing at the loss of my dear husband, well...I can't help you there, detective."

"And not even once, did you even try to report domestic abuse to the local police? You've simply kept this to yourself?" Chief Gregorio finally spoke, equally as concerned as the detective, who slowly sat back in his chair in disbelief.

"He...was a powerful man, with many acquaintances, he just had this...grip on me. I just...couldn't step out of the line..." Melina finally broke down into tears, "If I cry, detective, it is of relief, relief that this man finally got what he deserved. I don't know if he was murdered by someone, or mauled by an animal, but I have nothing to offer, consider me a widow who is finally free from her shackles."

"Just let her go, Emilio." The chief hissed at the detective, as both of them caught the sight of the broken woman sob uncontrollably on the spot, pushing the pictures away from her, "She's right, what were we expecting by interviewing her? We probably brought nothing but bad memories."

"Yes, this was clearly a mistake, MY mistake." Gregorio replied sheepishly, not daring to look at Melina, "Escort her out of the room. We're done here."

The Chief nodded as he quickly stood up, gently reaching over to help the lady up, who quickly put on her sunglasses and pulled her hair upfront, certainly looking the part of a grieving widow. Melina would thank the chief, insisting that she can leave the building herself. Not once did she look back, not daring to look at the many police officers that stared at her. She held her chin up, high heels tapping against the floor as she went. There goes Mrs. Miraflores, now a grieving widow, but if only the people around her knew.

Meanwhile, Detective Emilio quietly sat back against his chair as he pulled the photographs of the crime scene closer to him, observing them as he scratched the back of his head in a frustrated manner. He couldn't seem to get his eyes off the picture of Marcos' mangled corpse near the swimming pool, barely recognizable. At the same time, a phrase given by Melina played over and over in his mind, almost haunting him for a moment there.

"I don't know if he was murdered by someone, or mauled by an animal, but I have nothing to offer, consider me a widow who is finally free from her shackles."

"Murdered by someone..."

"Mauled by an animal..."

"Consider me a widow free from her shackles..."

Pimentel was decently large, being a town in the northern parts of the Peruvian coast, and certainly a magnificent place to visit, especially during the summer season. They were right in the middle of summer, in fact, and many families could be seen making their way to the nearby beach, with smiles plastered on their faces. Melina felt out of place at once, everyone around her seemed to be enjoying themselves. She tried her best to leave the police station at once, quickly making her way towards her SUV. The sun beamed down on her as if insisting she should start feeling better, but she felt broken, her spirit gone at this point. Her high heels tapped against the concrete floor, slipping out the car keys from her purse as she went, not daring to look up.

"Hey Melina, hey!"

Before she could even unlock her car, she quickly turned around to see who was calling her. It was one of the police officers, who also happened to be one of her friends, quickly running down the flight of stairs that led to the police station. The man looked quite young, perhaps a little younger than Melina, not to mention well built, the academy training doing wonders to his once-skinny body. The officer kept his distance, standing a few steps away from Melina, who had already thrown her purse into the passenger seat, one foot in the car already.

"Hey Fausto." The woman replied, nodding once.

"I heard about what happened back there, I'm really sorry for your loss..." the officer stammered, putting his hands in his pockets, "They can't stop talking about it back in the station."

"Of course they won't." Melina sighed, "Since when does this peaceful town get these sorts of gruesome events? But I appreciate the sympathy, I'm heading home to rest for a bit."

"Perhaps I can help you get home? You don't look like you're in the condition to be heading there by yourself."

"I know how to drive, Fausto." She smiled lightly, now resting her elbows on the car roof, the powerful wind pushing her head back, "I'll be fine, I promise."

"Let me drive you home, I insist, Melina." Fausto pleaded, "Besides, I have nothing to do right now, my shift is over at this point."

"I mean sure if you really want to." Melina shrugged, stepping out of her car, asking her way around as she handed her friend the car keys, "You know the way don't you?"

"You're acting like if we've never known each other." Fausto laughed, quickly settling down on the driver seat as the woman sat right beside him, placing the purse on her lap.

"If you're driving, that better mean that you're taking me home, and you're not going to invite me for lunch or something like that," Melina said, offering a knowing look.

"I'd definitely do that right now, you look pretty pale to me, I'm assuming you haven't eaten anything at all?" Her friend asked, returning the gesture.

"Nothing." Melina admitted, shrugging lightly, "I'm not in the mood to be eating anything anyway."

"Right, well...if you say so." Fausto sighed as he turned on the car, driving out of the parking lot and right into the Main Street, "So no Ceviche then?"

"No Ceviche, Fausto, I'm not in the mood to be eating seafood right now." Melina laughed, with her friend laughing along.

They drove through the main plaza slowly, as not only were the streets made of cobblestone and made the car shake, but it was also pretty crowded, with tons of people taking pictures in front of the Pimentel Cathedral, a few of them also posing in front of the Peruvian flag, which waved violently due to the strong winds. A few of the children were hopping in front of the many food carts around the plaza, feasting on caramel apples, popcorn, cotton candy, Alfajores, Mazamorra and Picarones.

Melina sighed softly, her eyes catching sight of all this. She didn't remove her sunglasses, gently resting against the car window, suddenly feeling a great wave of relief invading her. She made no attempt at striking a conversation with Fausto, who simply kept on driving, carefully making his way down the bumpy street and right into the highway. Before they knew it, they had left the busy section of the city, now driving down a long road, which was right beside the beach. Melina caught sight of the seagulls soaring from above, regrouping in one of the many beached ships along the coastline. Stray dogs, which were very common in Peruvian towns, were making their way along the side of the road. They pretty much had the road for themselves, not a single human soul in sight as the SUV zoomed by.

"I hate to be nosy," Fausto suddenly spoke, "But I'm still wondering why you bothered to deal with Marcos in the first place."

"Sometimes I can't help but wonder that too. Early on he was a nice guy, I had been dating him for a while before actually marrying him." Melina answered, "I'm sure they all start off as friendly people, and once you tie the knot, over time, you see their true selves. Also, why are you bringing this up?"

"Melina, we've been friends since we were kids, back when we both lived in Monsefu. Didn't we agree we'd have each other's back? I was worried for you because you had to deal with...that man." Fausto scowled, now looking at her briefly, "Hence why I ask: why bother?"

"You know I had no one to run to if I ever decided to leave him. My family is pretty much non-existent at this point: I haven't seen or talked to my sister ever since she left to California a few years ago, mom is probably still mad at me, and dad died last year. Where was I supposed to go? Being a single woman is hard, even in Pimentel, where almost everyone seems to look at the bright side of life." Melina explained, now looking down.

"You could've moved in with a friend, like me, for example," her friend said.

"I don't want to be a burden, I was never good at anything other than cooking...or cleaning..." the widow shook her head, "I've been a burden to so many people."

"Don't beat yourself like that, Melina, c'mon." Fausto frowned, using one arm to gently pat her on the shoulder, but still keeping his eyes on the road, "You're a strong woman, I know that, you've helped me in the past. For once, try helping yourself."

"Thanks for the support, friend." She simply said, reaching over to gently squeeze Fausto's hand, "It means a lot."

"So now what?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like, now that Marcos is gone, what's going to happen with you?" The officer asked.

"Until they can confirm that he's truly deceased, there's not much I have to do. I'm sure I inherit everything even after he's been confirmed dead...as far as I know, he never had any family either, so that's my assumption." Melina replied, "The house, the car...probably the business. I don't know...for once I don't know what's going to happen."

"I actually have a proposal to make, but I have to make sure it's confirmed." Fausto said, "I'd rather not talk about it right now, as I don't want to get your hopes up."

"At this point, anything can cheer me up." The woman raised a brow, "And what do you mean proposal?"

"Well, first of all, I should start by saying that life here isn't cutting it at all if you ask me. I don't make a lot as a police officer, who would've known?" Fausto chuckled, "But anyway, I've been meeting with a friend of mine, real nice guy, I think you know him. But the thing is...he's offering me a chance to head to the US..."

"Wait, like he's offering you a chance to cross the border?" Melina scoffed, "Are you really going to try that?"

"Well, might as well take the opportunity, he's charging 7k soles." Fausto grinned, "I've been saving up for years now, I have enough. Didn't your sister do the same?"

"Yes, but like 7 years ago, times have changed, Fausto, especially after what happened in 2001." She said, "I don't want to imagine the security there."

"Point is, that right now, the season is a little lackluster, so the prices have dropped, and can take more people so..."

"Please don't tell me you're actually going to ask me..." Melina laughed, hard, but in a non-taunting way, "...please don't tell me you're going to ask me to cross the border with you. I'd rather just get a visa or something."

"Really? You're just going to live the rest of your life here? You need to move on from all this, move out of this town, this country if possible...try living a little." Fausto encouraged the young woman, who didn't reply to this. She wouldn't have been able to anyway, as by the time she could utter a word, they had arrived at their destination.

Marcos had a rather fancy looking house, showing off the large amount of wealth the man had, but this wouldn't be seen at a simple glance, instead it looked quite gloomy: the house was surrounded by a tall ceramic wall with an electrical fence on top and a massive black gate right in the entrance, accessible only with a key. The address was written on the main entrance, the house looking more like a prison rather than somewhere to live in. Of course, this didn't intimidate Melina, as she was used to the rather morbid look of her husband's home. Fausto, on the other hand, gulped as he exited the car. The property looked quite out of place, with the houses beside it looking much more simple and a lot more colorful.

Melina would grab her purse, and was given the car keys, when she suddenly turned around to face her friend, "Uh, do you want to step inside for a drink or something?"

Fausto would grin and shake his head sheepishly, "Ah, no! It's fine, really, I really should be heading off now, just in case the chief needs me for something."

"Are you sure?" Melina asked once more, unlocking the gate, which opened with a loud creak, "How are you going to get back to the station?"

"Oh, I'll just take a combi, they take me a block away from the main plaza..."

"Would you like some money for the fare?"

"N-no, its fine, Melina!"

The widow gave her friend a funny look, before shrugging softly and offering a wave to him, "I guess I'll see you around, I really need to get some rest."

"You do that," Fausto replied, waving back, "Do take care, and don't hesitate to call me if you're feeling a little lonely, you hear?"

"I'll keep that in mind, thanks for the ride, Fausto." Melina smiled lightly, before turning around and entering her home, slamming the large gate behind her as she unlocked the second door into her home, this time the actual front door. Fausto would only sigh as he watched his friend enter her home, looking around for a few seconds. Somehow, the officer started to have an odd feeling, realizing that the street was completely dead, perhaps this area was a lot quieter than the other sectors of Pimentel.

Suddenly, his walkie-talkie would ring out loudly, scaring Fausto, the policeman on the other end asking where he currently was. Almost dropping his hat in the process, he would quickly reply to the other cop that he would be there soon, and started to jog down the empty street, his boots making heavy thumps on the concrete floor.

For once, Melina was able to simply leave her stuff wherever she pleased, simply tossing her purse on the living room couch as she took off her suit jacket and placed it on one of the dining room chairs. She made her way towards the kitchen, her high heels tapping against the marble floor as she went. It was here when she realized just how hot it was, and she desperately needed something to drink. The young woman quickly grabbed a glass from the tabletop and proceeded to serve herself a glass of ice cold water from the refrigerator. She would lift the glass over her head, chugging down the water in one swig. It felt greatly refreshing, feeling the water fall down her throat and feeling it in her stomach, causing her to shiver a bit. She would roll up her own sleeves, rinsing the used cup with water before placing it upside down to dry.

At once, she began to cook herself dinner, still wearing her fancy suit. Tomatoes were placed on the kitchen table, along with some spaghetti and a few pieces of thin meat. She would heat up the stove as Melina started to quickly cut the tomato into tiny little pieces, doing the same with the meat before mixing it up altogether in a bowl. The spaghetti would be thrown into a pot of boiling water as she proceeded to fry the meat, dousing it with seasoning before tossing it into a frying pan, letting it cook for a few good minutes before adding the tomatoes, mixing them together as the delicious smell began to invade the entire kitchen. Half an hour would go by, Melina managing to cook a Lomo Saltado to perfection, thanks to the many times she cooked it for Marcos. Eventually, everything was turned off, the cooked meat and veggies being pushed on to a plate, then the spaghetti, before mixing it all together.

Once a plate was served, she immediately reached over for a second plate, but that was when she realized that no one else was in the house with her. It was just her, not a single soul in sight. After awkwardly placing back the plate, she grabbed her own and walked to the dining room, where she sat on the far end of the table, setting up her utensils along with a large glass of Chicha Morada, a popular drink of the area. Before she ate, Melina made the sign of the cross, whispering a short prayer before digging in.

As she silently ate, she realized that it was getting dark outside, so perhaps this would be dinner instead of lunch. Today's events have been so stressful that she completely lost track of time. Did the cooking really take half an hour? Did the visit to the station take that long? She was too hungry to answer her own questions, she instead focused on the fact that she was by herself at the dinner table, not a single soul in sight.

After she was done eating, she quickly washed her own plate, along with the glass cup and the pots she used to cook the food. It took her about 10 minutes to leave everything spotless. Melina looked quite satisfied with her cleaning and proceeded to make her way upstairs to the bedroom, where she would quickly strip down to her bra and underwear. The suit would be thrown into the dirty clothes basket, and a fresh towel would be grabbed before slowly walking to the bathroom, where a nice shower was waiting just for her. Before she could step inside, however, she first stood over the sink, taking out a pack of baby wipes from the cabinet in front of her.

A single wipe was rubbed along her cheek, suddenly exposing more than just a purple eye: her left cheek had a small bruise, as well as her chin, all the pretty makeup was removed to expose her true self. But she didn't seem to care that much, instead tossing the wipe into the trash before hopping into the shower, letting the warm water cascade along her body, as if she was given a warm hug. As the steam started to become more visible, she would shampoo her hair, and scrub herself with soap. Melina would look through the glass doors surrounding her, swearing she saw someone sitting on the toilet, but once again, there was not a single soul in sight.

She finished her shower, taking longer than expected. Wrapping the tower around her, Melina went to her bedroom, feeling pretty exhausted from today's events. After drying herself well, the drawers were opened to pull out a fresh pair of underwear, along with her bedtime clothing. She didn't turn on the TV, nor did she decided to phone Fausto. Instead, despite being only 8 in the evening, she climbed into bed, turning the lights off in the process, resting her head against the feather pillow, wrapping herself in the very soft bedsheets. But this was when Melina realized that she was still sleeping on one side of the bed, the other side empty, with no one to rest on the other pillow, with no one to wrap around the soft bedsheets, with no one to accompany her this evening, with not a single soul in sight.

For once, after everything she had done so far, a sudden wave of loneliness overtook her, and without hesitation, she pulled that unoccupied pillow over her face and started to cry profusely. She wasn't sure for how long she had been crying, not like she minded either.

Eventually, after what seemed like hours to her, Melina slowly sank deeper into the bedsheets, having released all her sadness in a single session. Exhaustion took over, a headache to accompany that, before finally dozing off, submerging herself in a pit of utter darkness. Perhaps she would finally get some peaceful slumber, with no one around her, no one to bother her.

But it seems, that she no longer found herself within the comfort of her bed. Instead, it seemed like she had vanished to an entirely different location. Melina no longer felt like she was laying on a mattress, more like a marble floor. Slowly, she realized this new sensation, the cold floor making her feel greatly uncomfortable. Indeed she was laying on the solid ground, the night sky shining from above. A sense of anxiousness overtook her, causing the body to tremble. Melina was still wearing her nightclothes, as her eyes inspected her environment. It took her a few seconds to realize where she was: it was none other than her husband's resort, the same place where he had been brutally murdered. That was when she noticed something else, which immediately caused her to have a panic attack.

Marcos' corpse, in its mangled and unrecognizable form, was the main dish for a pack of huge, grey wolves. The sound of their teeth gnawing and chomping through the flesh and bone was enough to make Melina hurl, desperately sliding back. Her movement caught the attention of the wolves, who looked up in a deadly gaze, their bright, yellow eyes shining brightly. Melina held her hands up, expecting them to lunge at her, but instead, the wolves started to laugh...they started to laugh like a bunch of humans, a cold and haunting laugh that frightened Melina even more. They didn't attack her just yet, instead slowly making their way towards the frightened woman, like a predator stalking their prey.

_"You're nothing but a filthy masochist, aren't you, Melina?" _One of the wolves taunted.

Melina couldn't believe it, being completely lost for words.

"You married him for the money, stayed for the violence." Another one sneered, the others letting off a series of barks and laughs.

The woman instinctively defended herself, as if not acknowledging that she was being trash-talked by a bunch of wolves.

"I...I didn't! That wasn't my reason to marry him, you have it all wrong!" She cried out, still sliding away from them.

"You never bothered to call the police, you let yourself get played." Another wolf replied.

A rather large one nodded, "I guess you never truly learn about a man. Pathetic, you're nothing but a mere puppet to his antics."

_"G-get away from me, dammit!" _Melina yelled, only getting laugher as a response.

"No family to run to," _the wolf in the middle sighed, _"now you are truly alone."

Melina couldn't bear to keep listening, quickly standing up to turn around and run, only for her to be viciously grabbed by the neck. Shock overtook her, doing nothing but squirm around and attempting to scream, but couldn't. Something was lifting her off the ground, her vision too hazy to identify the attacker. Something she did take note of, was the unmistakable smell of a wet dog, and a set of sharp claws she felt on the attacker's hand, which were slowly sinking into her neck. She was running out of air, her vision failing severely, her ears picking up nothing but the endless laugher from presumably the wolves. Then, ever so slowly, the attacker gently leaned over to her ear, the smell of wet dog getting stronger and stronger until they were basically facing each other.

"Why don't you be my girl, Melina?" The creature whispered hoarsely, in Marcos' voice, "Be my girl."

"N-NO!"

Melina shrieked, jumping up violently. The woman waved her arms around her, only managing to grasp a pillow and her blanket. Air would rush back to her lungs, and the cold sensation from the marble floor was gone, now feeling the welcoming embrace from her bed. She spent a few minutes clutching her own neck, trying to keep it together. It was nothing but a nightmare, a stupid nightmare. Melina took deep breaths and counted to ten, reaffirming over and over that she wasn't in Marcos' resort, and currently found herself safely in bed. What on earth was that nightmare? It undoubtedly felt so bizarre, and real to experience. It was still nighttime, a light drizzle taking place outside. She needed a glass of water to calm herself down, something to take her mind off the dream.

Melina would reach over to switch on the lamp, and attempted to look for her slippers. As she slowly sat up to put them on, one of her hands rested on the bedsheets, only to feel something oddly soft. Melina instinctively grabbed it, bringing it closer to the lamplight to see what it was: it was fur...grey fur to be exact, and not only that...it was also wet. Her hands started to shake violently, the blood draining from her face as she started to feel her breathing get shaky. What on earth...why was there fur on her bed? In a flash, she quickly grabbed her phone from the nightstand and dialed the police.

"Pimentel police, how can I help you?"

"Please, there's someone in the house with me!" Melina started to wail, "Something is in here with me!"

"Alright ma'am I need you to please stay on the line, can you do that for me?"

"Y-yes..." she replied, still grasping on the bit of fur on her shaking hand.

"Do you mind telling me you address?" The operator asked politely.

"It's 500 Saint Francis avenue," Melina immediately answered, her eyes suddenly fixing on something that made her fright grow even more.

The bedroom door was wide open, despite her closing it when she went to bed. Melina slowly got up, running over to turn on the lights, her breathing now getting shakier and shakier.

"Ma'am I need you to please remain calm, I've notified a few cops to your location, I need you to please remain on the phone, is that okay? I understand the situation...ma'am...ma'am?"

"I...I understand, I won't hang up." She said, now stepping outside her room to take a look down the dark hallway. Her eyes were fixed on a certain location, a location that was quite visible even with the lack of light: in her home, there was an attic, accessible only by opening a small hatch on the ceiling, where a little ladder would fall right out. The hatch was open, the ladder also being lowered down.

"It's...It's in my attic, my attic is open." Melina stammered, saying this to both herself and the operator. Instead of staying back, she continued making her way out of the bedroom and right towards the ladder itself. Why was she doing this? Something was pulling her towards it, her own body behavior seeming involuntary. Still, she held the phone close to her ear, carefully approaching the ladder.

Her heart was pounding louder than ever, a wave of cold sweat starting to form on her forehead. Somehow, even if her legs were really wobbly, she was now standing right in front of the ladder.

"Ma'am, whatever you do, do not go up the ladder, we already sent a team to your house," the operator assured the frightened woman, "Stay away from the ladder and remain in your room ma'am, can you do that? Ma'am?"

But by the time the operator had warned her, she was already halfway up. Melina, despite moments away from fainting from the sheer fright, felt a sudden surge of curiosity.

"Ma'am, what are you doing right now?"

Melina was one step away, her free hand now resting on the floor of the attic, there was a rustling noise.

"Where are you at this moment, ma'am? We need to make sure that you're okay, please say something!"

She would slowly pull herself up, her body now halfway through the little hatch, her breathing now growing very faint.

"Ma'am? Answer me! We have cops right around the block, don't hang up! Do not go up the ladder, do you hear me?"

It was pitch black, yet Melina could see something at the very end: there was a massive figure crouching, much larger than an average man, almost like a type of monster...especially those pointy ears that stood out. For a few seconds, the figure kept moving around ever so quietly, as if looking for something, the sound of small items being pushed around. It didn't seem to realize that a very frightened Melina had been observing for about a minute. She couldn't breathe, slowly lowering the phone from her ear.

"Police, open up!" Someone suddenly shouted from down below, alerting both Melina and the figure.

Suddenly, two bright yellow eyes flashed and were fixed on her, the same yellow eyes that had haunted her from the nightmare.

"Melina."

A voice said in a deadly whisper, a voice that sounded very familiar to her: it was Marcos' voice.

That was enough to make the woman drop her phone. The last thing Melina saw was the room spin around her, as she lost grip from the ladder and felt her entire body fly backward into the abyss.

***

"Mrs. Miraflores, care to explain what happened?"

"I...I saw Marcos...I saw him...in the attic...I saw him..."

Melina found herself being surrounded by cops, all looking down at her in a rather awkward scenario. She was shaking from head to toe, too frightened to move an inch. A blanket had been placed over her, which didn't seem to stop her uncontrollable shivering one bit. She didn't even seem to realize that she was currently sitting on her couch in the living room, still unable to process what had occurred to her. Beside her was none other than Detective Emilio, who clearly looked concerned over what had occurred.

"Melina, we've searched the entire house, we didn't find anything. The attic was closed when we arrived, we only found you unconscious on the ground." The man assured her, his head tilting ever so slightly.

"It was Marcos, he called out my name, but it wasn't him...it was something else."

The detective sighed, "You've been knocked out for almost half an hour. We checked everywhere, we inspected the attic, the basement, the outside...there is nothing Melina...we only found you on the flo-"

"I HEARD HIM, I'M NOT LYING!" Melina shrieked, now breaking down in a hysteric fit, "IT WAS MARCOS! HE WAS IN MY ATTIC!"

"Have you ever sleepwalked before? Any episodes of dread or paranoia lately?"

"I'm telling you, I saw him! There was fur on my bed!" Melina stammered, now rocking back and forward on the couch like a type of lunatic.

There was a brief pause as Emilio simply stared at her before he silently instructed his team to pack up and wait for him outside.

Once they were by themselves, the man gently placed a hand on Melina's shoulder, "Look, I understand that you've had a traumatic experience with Marcos in the past. And I assure you, that we've checked every nook and cranny of your house and we've found nothing out of the ordinary."

"What are you implying, detective?" Melina whispered, her panic attack dying down, "That I'm nothing but an insane person?"

"I really don't want to offend, Melina...but there's nothing better than consulting a professional about past trauma so they can understand and offer words of advice." Emilio sheepishly scratched the back of his head, "Maybe said professional can help you cope with your loss, you know?"

"So you're telling me to go find a therapist because I'm just some crazy bitch to you, is that it?" Melina suddenly felt a great surge of anger and frustration within her, something that surprised her as well as the detective who slightly leaned back.

"Psychologists are not just for crazy people, Melina." The detective reassured, now standing up, "They deal with different situations, like trauma, from different types of people, all from different ages."

Melina remained silent, not daring to look up at Emilio, still offended at how he didn't seem to believe her one bit.

"Don't hesitate to call the cops, and ask for my name, I'll be happy to help in any emergency." The man sighed, now opening the main door, the powerful lights from the police sirens flashing from outside, "However, I do recommend calling when truly deemed necessary. Good evening, Mrs. Miraflores."

And with that, Detective Emilio left, shutting the door behind him and leaving a shaking Melina by herself on her couch, still not daring to believe it. The woman remained in that hunched over position for a good 5 minutes, listening to the cop car doors close and the rev from their engines as they left from the Miraflores residence, once more the street completely silent except for the rain still going on.

Melina would quietly dig into the pockets of her nightgown, trying to find her phone, only to feel her fingers rub against something fuzzy. She quickly pulled it out, being none other than the grey fur she found on her bed. So wasn't crazy, she knew that she heard Marcos call out to her a while ago. Melina was scared, but at the same time, she could feel a sense of determination build up. Without saying a single word, she quickly put the patch of fur away and went right back to her bedroom, not daring to turn any of the lights off as she went. She knew someone who would believe her, someone who might hold a solution to this.

End of Part l of lll