Amelie was searching through her dad's attic. She had always lived with her father, ever since her mother left them when she was a baby. She was still unsure as to why her mother had left. Amelie was trying to find an old album of baby pictures for her father- he was making a collage to hang in his room to remind him of when she was younger. She opened up a box labelled "1970's", the decade of her birth. Inside the box, she finds a phonograph and a single record. Curious, she pulled out the record and read the label, "The Truth: A Hard Pill to Swallow." Intrigued, she placed the record on the phonograph and gently positioned the needle onto the record.
Amelie jumped at the sound of her own name. She expected music to come flowing through the old record player, but instead she heard her father's voice.
"This is your father speaking- or at least, who you thought was your father."
The words sunk into her brain. Who you thought was your father.
"You see, I'm not your father. Did you ever hear the of the Camilla Killer case? I killed your real mother and father 17 years ago. I loved the way that my knife sliced their throats open so easily, and the way the light disappeared from their eyes as they slowly died, their last view of the world being their killer's eyes. My moment was ruined though, with your insolent screams coming from the other room. I ran over there, knife in hand, ready to kill you, when I saw that you were just a baby. When I looked at you, scared, helpless, I couldn't bring myself to kill you, so I ran away with you into the night, renamed you Amelie, and raised you as my own."
Amelie listened with horror as she heard her "father" recount the story of her abduction.
"As you've grown up, I've resisted the urge to kill you, taking it out on wild animals instead, to keep you safe. It's been so difficult. So, so difficult. Your soft skin would slice open so nicely under the blade of my knife. I knew that there was a possibility that I couldn't help myself until you left home. There are no baby pictures of you. What, do you think I'm stupid? You were the most searched child in America until you turned four, and they called it a cold case. No, I know that you would search the box with the decade of your birth written on it, I knew that you would pick up this record and played it. If you are hearing this, it means I am going to kill you. Kill you. Kill you."
The record started to skip. Amelie picked it up and hurled it at the wall, where it smashed into little pieces. She started breathing hard and her vision blurred. She heard steps coming up the ladder into the attic. She turned towards the sound, heart pounding.