The Blog

Melissa was in her bedroom listening to music. As usual, the volume was out loud so she did not hear the phone ringing. She did not hear her mother crying either. It was not until her stepbrother Frank banged the door open that she got the news: David, her stepfather had died in a car accident.
The funeral service was long, too long for Melissa. Her stepfather was a beloved member of the small town they lived in and the huge crowd in the church was a proof of it. The burial went by relatively fast and, before she could notice, she was back at home, sitting on her bed. Her heart was numbed, her feelings were confusing. She was hurt by the loss but she did not know how to externalize the pain. A loud knock on the door made her jump.
‘It’s open,’ she whispered.
Frank opened the door, went in and sat by her side. ‘How are you?’
‘I don’t know. I… I really loved him. I can’t believe he’s no longer with us. I mean, I can’t believe I won’t find him tomorrow morning sitting by the window, drinking his coffee. It’s too surreal’
‘I know what you mean.’ Frank made a long pause and then, kissing Melissa’s forehead said, ‘Now try to get some rest sis. It’ll do you good.’
‘I will. Good night.’
Frank went out and closed the door behind him. Melissa stared at the door for some minutes and then, all of a sudden she sprang out of bed and sat at her computer. Without thinking it twice, she began writing a blog in her profile at MySpace.com. She described all the events of that day – how she had received the sad news, the long funeral service, the burial, and even the police report she had heard a police officer telling her mother and older brother earlier that day. When she finished she felt relieved. But it was not enough, she had to go on. Melissa opened a folder where she had kept the family photos she had taken with her digital camera some months before and selected some. After some hard work her profile was totally updated. As a matter of fact, it looked like her stepfather’s profile, not hers at all. Photos of David decorated the web page. There was also a short account of his life that took the visitor on a sort of virtual tour of his life. Melissa felt better, even happier that people around the world would know about her stepfather. With a faint smile on her face, Melissa went to bed and fell asleep almost immediately.
Next morning Melissa was awoken by the loud music coming from her sound system; she had forgotten to turn the timer off. She peered at her clock and saw the blinking light announcing 9:30. Melissa listened to the sounds surrounding her: the birds chirping, her dog Odin running up and down the backyard barking, the cars passing by her house. But there was no sound at all inside the house; her mother was exhausted and she had taken sleeping pills so she would sleep until midday at least. Frank had left the night before while Melissa was at her computer, probably to his girlfriend’s, Jane. She did not feel tired so she got up, and turned on her computer to check whether someone had posted any comments on her page, of which she felt really proud. She logged in and found that, indeed, some people had left comments. The messages were from her friends, mostly expressing their condolences. But one message was from someone she did not know. There was no picture and the user name was unknown to her. The message read:
“It wasn’t an accident. He was murdered.”
Melissa’s heart pounded and tears began running down her cheeks. What was it, some kind of sick joke? If that was it, it was not funny at all. After some moments she noticed that the person was online so she opened his profile – apparently it was someone called Eero from Finland – and opened the instant message window.
‘Who the hell r u?’ wrote a furious Melissa.
After some minutes the man replied. ‘I can’t tell u but I know David was murdered.’
‘Why do u tell me that? It’s not funny.’
‘Of course it’s not. But it’s the truth. And u should do sth about it.’
‘But what?’
‘Come tonight at midnight to 1737 SW Morrison Street alone. I’ll tell u more then. It’s not safe through here.’
Then he logged off.
Melissa was nervous and confused. She did not know what to do. Was it safe to meet this person? She decided the best thing to do was to get her brother to go with her. That afternoon, when Frank came back, Melissa told him everything about her blog and the man’s message. At first he was hesitant, but then he agreed to go with her.
Melissa and Frank arrived to the place at midnight. It was a small detached house, surrounded by tall trees. It was a spine-chilling place but she was determined to know the truth. Melissa walked to the door and knocked loudly three times. The door opened slowly and all she could see was a man’s hand.
‘No! I told you to come alone! Go away!’ yelled the man, closing the door.
‘No, please. You have to tell me about my stepfather’s death. Please!’ begged Melissa. Frank we have to do someth…’
Frank had hit the back of her head with a hammer. Melissa’s body fell heavily to the ground. The man observed horrified how her body lay in a pool of blood coming from her skull. Frank kicked the door open and went straight to the man.
‘You had to mess it up for the two of us, right? You just had to shut up! It wasn’t so difficult. What happened? Was the voice of your conscience bothering you? Uh?’
‘No, you don’t understand, Frank. It was…’
‘What?! Wrong? Come on Eero! It was your idea.’
‘No. I gotta go to the police. I’
‘No, you won’t.’ Frank shot Eero in the back of his head, killing him instantly.
Next morning, Frank went to his house.
‘Where have you been sweetie?’ asked his mother.
‘At Jane’s.’
‘Oh, and where’s your sister?’
‘I’ve no idea, mum,’ Frank said turning around. A crooked smile spread over his face.