No one sips coffee, no one wakes up.
Sorry about
yesterday. A crisis occurred. The house has been in a state of uproar and
disrepair. Hilda really is gone. We’ve searched everywhere. Inside the house,
in the yard, in the nearby streets. I don’t go out to smoke anymore. I smoke in
my room. The smell here is awful. No one wants to call the police. Like mad,
Tom keeps repeating she must have gone shopping. This is ridiculous. It’s
December the 20th now and all hope should be abandoned.
At some point I saw
Jo and Eric together. As I approached, they hurriedly began talking about
Hilda.
“Shall we go on with
Christmas?” I asked my dad. He said yes. Everyone said yes. Which I find
suspicious. Which anyone with half a brain would find suspicious.
The house feels numb.
In these late entries
of mine, I’m still trying to be emotional. No use. I should just report the
facts.
Hilda is gone. I have
no idea if she has been murdered, but deep inside I feel this is only just
beginning.
P.S. (I can’t do this
countdown anymore.)
P.P.S. I think it’s
Tom.
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