Tracks

Rain poured down on a dreary Thursday afternoon. I was in a train on the way to Heathrow Terminal 4 as I stared out of the window, suppressing my tears.

I adjusted my red scarf as I looked around.

Suddenly, a man in a black blazer, baggy jeans, and a white t-shirt with disheveled brown hair sat next to me, catching me off guard.

It hadn't been but ten minutes when he suddenly got up, presumably to go to the restroom.

I eyed the seat, noticing there was a neatly wrapped package sitting there.

I thought perhaps the man would come back for his box, but he didn't.

Instead, I saw him in another seat, gesturing for me to open, it seemed.

He then traveled out of eyeshot, seeming quite nervous for a person on a train.

He had an odd habit of tapping his foot.

I opened the package. Inside, there was a book. I opened it.

It was a diary.

The rain continued pounding down outside, droplets bulging as they fell from stormy clouds.

As I opened the diary, my mouth fell agape.

September 1, 2020

This is the diary of Louis Harrison. I have been on the run for four years now. Yesterday, I killed my brother. Why? It is complicated. He has been very cruel to me over the years. One time, he put me in the dryer and laughed as I rolled around and around in there. This time though, he was threatening me. He was threatening to take the love of my life, Maria, away from me, and I knew he could do it. She already fancied him and he was quite handsome, strong as hell, and incredibly charming.

That man could get any woman he wanted, including mine. Between all of that and his voicing his concerns about me distancing myself from the family and being homeless, I figured I would kill him.

I didn't have much, but I always carried a gun on me, just in case I needed to use it.

Henry Harrison never approved of me, and I knew he never would.

Curious, I turned to the last page.

February 28, 2024

I am heading to Heathrow Terminal 4 to kill a young girl by the name of Theresa May. She's only 17. I know. It's wrong. I've become addicted at this point. She's so young, mores0 than my usual victims, but, honestly, she's my only viable target at the moment: I know she'll be without her mother, and she is rather thin, with long blonde hair, so she'll be easier to catch. These days, I kill for meals.

I don't have any other way to eat.

"Uhhh!"

I gasped, half out of horror and half out of disgust.

Who is Louis Harrison? Is that the man in the blazer? No! It can't be! He wouldn't just leave it there so conspicuously.

I fought a lump forming in my throat.

Maybe the next victim was his daughter.

With shaking hands, I took my phone out of my briefcase and dialed 999.

"Hello? This is Officer Madison Grey. How may I help you?"

"There is a killer at Heathrow Terminal 4. He's about to murder a teenage girl," I answered breathlessly.

"Do you have evidence?"

"Yes. I have the man's journal."

"Any physical description?"

"None, but the diary says his name is Louis Harrison."

"Thank you, ma'am. We will be there soon."

"Thank you! Thank you!" I replied nervously, then hung up.

As the train veered to a halt, I eased my way out of it, knots forming in my stomach.

The police had arrived, but it was nearly too late.

As I got out of the train, I saw a teenage girl with long blonde hair breathing heavily.

She had been shot in her hand, I noticed: The man must have missed significantly when he aimed at her, maybe from a distance.

I saw a woman with her phone in hand, "Hello? This is Madison Grey. We need an ambulance immediately."

I breathed a sigh of relief.

At least she's alive. Poor thing.

My knees buckled as my eyes locked with a red-haired man who had bright blue eyes and a gun in his hand.

He uttered an expletive, then marched away.

I ran as fast as my feet could carry me, desperate to escape.

By the time I'd arrived at my friend Darlene's car, the man had disappeared.