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.