A Wicked Web

Jacob " oh god .. please don't ..please noo... f**k! " Jacob was already late and now the traffic lights were not doing any favor either. He looked down again at his shabby old watch."I'm so screwed", he murmured. "Where the hell is everybody going?". Lights turned green. Jacob honked hard even though he knew that there was nothing the guy in front of him could do to make it go faster. "that's it, i cannot waste another second waiting here!", he told himself.  Jacob slid his bike onto the footpath and accelerated.  He had to get out of the traffic before he ran into some trouble. He rushed past an angry old man, who was startled by the sudden dash of a bike on the footpath. The old man shouted at the top of his voice at Jacob, who acknowledged it by looking back and raising his hand so as to apologize.  There was a loud crash.  And then it was all just black, for Jacob. Alex  Officer Alex Jason was having a rather unpleasant morning when the phone rang. He didn't bother picking it. It rang again, but he couldn't care less. "What the hell did I drink yesterday!?", he thought. His head was paining, rather he felt like it was going to burst open. He wished at least that would end the pain.  Alex sat up straight and that's when he realized that he had passed out on the bathroom floor last night. "f**k! Is that blood?", he couldn't still clearly make out everything that was around him, but that was definitely blood, that vile smell. He touched his forehead and instantly felt the pain. "Holly f*****g Fish", he groaned.  Alex helped himself to stand and took a good look in the bathroom mirror. "Damn, that is a big one. It's gonna leave a mark for sure".There was a deep long cut on his forehead. "What in the hell happened yesterday!?'", he was clueless. He popped in a pill from the bathroom cabinet that he thought was for pain and stepped out. That's when he noticed his table lamp lying near the bathroom door, broken. "Oh..it was a nice one.", he sighed. The phone started to ring again. Alex was still trying to remember anything that had happened the previous night. He sat on the bed, slowly, whole body was paining. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  Nothing. Absolutely Nothing.  The phone was still ringing. Alex stretched his hands and reached for the phone on the table beside.  "Officer Alex Jason?" Alex didn't recognize the voice. "Yes, who's this?", he asked.  "A murder has been committed", said the voice.  "huh, excuse me?" Alex was puzzled.  "A murder has been committed", repeated the cold emotionless voice.  "Sir you're supposed to report this to the police control room, call 112. This is my residential number, and am currently not on duty." Alex explained.  "A murder has been committed at 113, Avenue Park" Alex was too exhausted to get angry,  "Sir, like I said, please report this ..." there was a moment of silence."Excuse me, What did you say the address was again?", Alex asked.  "113, Avenue Park" and the line went cold.  He knew that address very well;  Mr. Alex Jason, 113 Avenue Park, North Mallway.  The sleeping pill was taking over his cognitive functions. He felt his body becoming lighter. He tried to stand up, but his body unwillingly crashed on the bed. He was unconscious in a second.  Amanda The lifeless body of Amanda Collins was lying in the living room of 113 Avenue Park. That confident smile that she always managed to put on her face, was no longer there. There were 13 stab wounds all over her body. The pool of blood that she was lying in, was starting to dry out. Amanda Collins was a name that most could recognize in the community. 'The wondergirl' as many would remember her, was, in fact, her third movie. She never knew her parents, not that she cared. Collins Foster Home was all that she remembered about her childhood.  For someone who had been through it all, for someone who understood how the world worked, for someone who had absolutely nothing to lose, Amanda had decided to be the master of her fate when she was just in her teens. She surely was a fighter, and of course, she needed to be one. Her life turned out exactly how she wanted it to be, every moment how she dreamed it would be, except for lying dead at 38 in the living room of 113 Avenue Park.  That surely was not in her plans.