Dear Mother: I Married a Serial Killer

Letter Eight:

Dear Mother,

The scariest thing happened last night.  I had been asleep for an hour or two when I heard a crash in the living room.  I got up quickly, thinking it might have been Aaron who had fallen or something.  When I got into the living room, Aaron was standing near the window and looking out into the darkened street.  I reached for his hand, figuring I could comfort him this way, but instead I stood frozen where I was.  The window was broken where someone had thrown a rock through it.  The said rock was now in Aaron's hand.  A scrap of paper was tied to it with a blue ribbon.

Curiously, and a bit afraid, I asked Aaron what it said.  He shook his head angrily and thrust the rock in my direction to let me read it.  The words, "You're Next" were scribbled on the paper.  A chill ran up and down my spine.  Whoever had written this could still be outside or even inside the apartment.

Aaron must have realized this at the same time because he held me protectively against his side.  We first called the police and then searched the apartment for any intruders.  Fear was the only thing that kept us awake and alert as we went through each room together.  Finally, the police showed up.  They searched the premises of the apartment buildings, but found no one around.  As for the window, they boarded it up and told us who to call to get it fixed.

After they left, Aaron and I stayed up in the kitchen, sipping cups of herbal tea.  The warmth they gave was not enough to warm our terrified and shocked bodies.  Even after the sun was up, we didn't utter a word to each other.  I can only imagine what he was thinking.  Only a soft knock on the door broke our silence.

Aaron told me to stay in the kitchen while he figured out who it was.  My heart was pounding with anxiety until he returned.  It turns out that it was only Alicia.  Naturally, she asked what had happened, and we told her everything that had occurred.  She looked shocked that it had been so close to where she lived.  I hope she doesn't worry too much about it.  After all, it was thrown in Aaron and my apartment, not hers.  But what if it was intended for her?  Is there a possibility that the murderer threw the rock into the wrong apartment?

These thoughts are merely hopes and nothing else.  I believe that the murderer or whoever threw that rock, knew exactly who's apartment this was.  I don't know how I'll ever sleep again!  However, it does give me some comfort that Aaron is a lot better now.  His cheeks are looking normal, and he's able to fix his own breakfast.  He might even be able to go back to work on Monday.  What will I do without him?  All of my confidence is stripped from me in the form of a rock with a message.  Will this madness ever stop?

Love,

          Abigail Kibbins