The worst day of my life actually started out somewhat normal.

I took a sip of my drink, and shuddered. I couldn’t even taste the coffee through all the cream and sugar. My secretary just couldn’t get it through her head that I liked my coffee black. I shook my head and returned to my computer. Before I could get concentrated on my work though, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. “Dahlia Black” the screen read. My finger was hovering over the answer button, when my boss, Mr. Mathews, stuck his head through the door of my office.

“Do you have a minute?” he asked.

“Of course sir” I answered, pushing decline on my phone.

“Come with me,” he ordered. As I followed him down the narrow hallway, my phone buzzed twice, letting me know I had a voice mail. I felt the urge to check the message, but couldn’t with my boss walking right in front of me. He didn’t tolerate personal calls in the workplace.

I walked into his office and he shut the door behind me.

“Dylan, our company has been offered one of the biggest projects yet. We’ve been asked to follow the growth of sales when a new brand of sports drink comes out. You are one of the top associates in this company I would like you to be the leader of the investigation team,” my boss explained.

“I would be honored Mr. Mathews,” I stuttered. A project this big was something I had only dreamed of.

“I am also aware, however, that you tend to spend a lot of time on the phone making personal calls,” Mr. Mathews continued.

“I’m sorry sir,” I explained, “my wedding is in a couple of weeks. I’ve been talking to my fiancé.”

“Personal calls will have to end if you intend to take the leadership position. I cannot allow you to be distracted from such a big job.” He announced.

“I can do that,” I confirmed, wondering how I was going to explain to Dahlia that I couldn’t help her in the middle of a wedding crisis any more.

“I’m sure you will do great things for this company,” Mr. Mathews told me, before shaking my hand and sending me out.

I closed the door behind me and walked back to my office down the hall. As I passed her desk, my secretary called out, “Mr. Mathews asked me to hold any phone calls and tell you the research team will be sent over in a couple of minutes.”

I nodded in response before sitting down at my desk. I stared out the window opposite my computer. The sun was shining and the wind was ruffling the trees. It was a gorgeous day. I remembered the phone call I had received earlier and pulled out my phone to see a new text message. I opened it. Dahlia had written that she had picked out a wedding cake and was headed home. I smiled. This day couldn’t get any more perfect.

Just as my office door opened and the research team walked in, my phone started buzzing again. Dahlia was calling.

“Are you going to get that?” one of the team members asked?

I looked up at him, and then back down at my phone.
“No,” I answered, before hitting the decline button for the second time that day. Only this time, I powered my phone all the way off, before sliding it into a desk drawer.

“Let’s get started,” I said.

Several hours later, after a long planning session, I decided to head home. I opened the office door and was immediately hit with a cold blast of wind. I walked briskly to my car and as soon as I was inside, it started pouring down rain. How could the weather have changed this quickly?

I had forgotten to turn on my phone when I left the office, as it was still off from earlier that day, so as soon as I got the heat going, I turned it on. I had over twenty calls and messages from Dahlia. I sat there surprised, and a little worried, for a minute before listening to them. The first few were asking me to call her when got the chance. As I kept listening though, Dahlia started telling me she felt like someone was watching her. Keeping my phone pressed to my ear, I put my car in drive, and raced towards home.

The messages continued with Dahlia getting more and more nervous. She kept saying over and over that she felt there was someone there, but she wasn’t sure, so she didn’t want to call the police. She said that she thought she heard someone in the back yard, but it could have been her imagination. Her voice grew shakier with each message. As I pulled into my neighborhood, I pressed play on the last message. She was sobbing into the phone. All of a sudden, she let put a blood curdling scream. Someone fumbled to hang up. My blood ran cold.

I turned onto my street and my eyes could only focus on the flashing red lights down the street. Because of the storm, they were blurry enough that it took me a minute to realize they were in front of my own house. I pulled up and jumped out of the car, not caring if I got rained on. I ran past the police and the paramedics and everyone who was there. I pushed passed anyone who tried to stop me. I skidded to a halt outside of my living room. Police officers swarmed the room, but no one had noticed me yet. I saw what could only once have been my fiancé. I closed my eyes, but the image was burned into my memory. Dahlia was covered in blood, her eyes glassy. Her torso lay on the complete opposite side of the room to her lower half. Not only was she dead, she was cut cleanly in half.

I suddenly felt dizzy, like not enough oxygen was getting to my brain. The whole room was spinning, before I finally took a breath. I stood there for what felt like hours, but was really only minutes. I didn’t move. I didn’t cry. I couldn’t. I was in shock. I kept telling myself that there was no way this could be my Dahlia. My Fiancé. The love of my life. My weeping was what finally gave me away. They were real, loud, puffy eyed shoulder wrenching sobs. A police officer walked over and told me, “You can’t be here sir,” before ushering me out.

I was too weak to fight. I had to remind myself to breathe. Even through my tears, I could make out familiar faces giving me unfamiliar looks of pity and sorrow. I heard snippets of whispered conversations. As soon as I looked as whisperer, they turned away, their cheeks flushed.

Finally, a neighbor came up to me.

“Dahlia was such a sweet girl. We will all miss her terribly. I am so sorry,” she managed before a wave of fresh tears rolled down her face. I looked into her watery eyes, a lump rising in my throat. I wanted so desperately to answer, to thank her, but my jaw locked and I couldn’t speak.

They took me back to the station for questioning, but I was soon cleared when I was able to prove that I was at the office all day. The police then explained that they had received a call from Dahlia saying that there was someone in the house. By the time they had gotten there though, she was already gone. They also told me that they had no leads in the case, and there were no witnesses.

As I left the station, I was stopped by a mob of reporters. So many questions were shouted at me, I had a hard time understanding what anyone was saying.

There was one question I could hear above the rest. “What message do you have for the killer?” someone was asking.

“I don’t know who you are, but I will, when the police find you. And mark my words, they will find you,” I answered.