I spot the source of the screams. She was being robbed in broad daylight.

A man is trying to snatch this lady's purse. He's wearing a black baseball cap that covers his face. The lady is holding onto her bag for dear life as if there might be gold or diamonds in that bag.

I run towards them and slap the mans hand away. I stood in front of the lady shielding her as I took hold of the handle of her bag. I felt his grip loosen a bit and I use it as an opportunity to knock him down. He stumbled over his feet but gets up quickly and makes a sprint for it. I look back at the women who was now hugging her bag as she stared ahead in shock. Her eyes wide and her mouth slack jawed. The man is sprinting with all his strength and in the spur of the moment I decide run after him.

He kept looking back at me as he tried to shake me of his tail but i guess the adrenaline was kicking in and I wasn't feeling tired at all.

The thief runs into an alleyway. I follow and suddenly felt a sharp pulsating pain on my forearm. He slashed me with a pocket knife. When I look up he was gone. I could see his the top of his head as he jumped the wall and landed on the other side.

I searched for the nearest store with a bathroom to wash off the blood. Luckily one shopkeepers was nice enough to allow me in without forcing me to buy anything like they usually do. I look at my reflection in the broken mirror. I was sweating a ton and the marks were all over my shirt.

My arm was still bleeding. I heard it takes about seven minutes for bleeding to stop so it's normal for now. I'm probably going to need some stitches. I roll up my sleeves and clenched my jaw as I tried to endure the pain. The water washed all the impurities out of my wound. The majority of the fresh blood washed out of my shirt but some, which had begin to dry, just wouldn't budge no matter how hard I rubbed. It's stained now. I gave up and made my way back to where to women was.

She was clenching her bag and looking around with concern etched into her face.When she spotted me she jogged up to me with a grateful smile.

"Thank you young man!" She looks at my arm which was still bleeding even though the flow has been reduced. "Are you hurt?"

I hide my forearm behind my back and forced a polite smile, "It's just a small scratch."

She pulls my arm and inspects it, "It's huge! Let's go to he hospital and get it cleaned up." She demands and rugs me towards a car.

I reluctantly allowed her to drag me, "Its okay I don't like going to hospitals."

She let's go of my hand and grabs the keys to her car. "I would disinfect it for you but I'm sure it needs stitches. Get inside the car." I stare at her and she stares back. I gave up and complied.

She turns on the car and reversed out of the parking slot,"Put on the suit belt. Where are you headed?"

"I was going to visit someone in the apartment we were in front of." I made sure the seat belt was secured before I awkwardly started spinning my phone around my hands.

"Oh I know the tenants their who are you visiting?"

"Tom Grey."

She nods as she maneuvers her way through the streets, "Is he a friend?"

I shake my head. "I just need to talk to him."

It didn't take more that twenty minutes before I was done. The doctor disinfected the wound and gave it seven stitches.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

"Alright, you're heading to that apartment right?"

She already drove me here there's no need to trouble her further. "You really don't have to drive me back."

"It's okay i live in that apartment so that's where I'm heading anyway."

I smile. "Thank you."

When we reached the parking lot back near the apartments she parks her car and pulls an envelope.

"Here take this as a token of my appreciation for standing up for me against that thief."

Is she offering me money? I mean I appreciate that she's trying to help but that's a little offensive. "I can't accept that I only did what anyone else would do."

"That's not true. It's rare to find young men like you nowadays; people only care for themselves."

"I still can't accept that."

Her eyes were downcast. She played with the zipper on her bag. "You know why even though I'm weak and old I still struggled and risked getting stabbed or killed just to get this bag?" She questioned. I didn't answer and she continued on, "It's not money or identification."

She dugs out her wallet and pulls out a picture of a man in his early twenties. "Its because of this."

She breathes in deeply and released the breath, choking on suppressed tears."It's my son. This is my favourite picture of him. He died while serving the country."

My expression softened and I try to think of a way to somehow comfort her. "I'm sorry to hear that. He's a hero."

She sniffles and wipes hear tears with a tissue. "If you are then you'll accept this from me. You remind me so much of my son. He was as selfless as you are, humble and righteous." She grabs my hand and places the envelope in it.

"Thank you." I hesitantly accepted.

She tells me the apartment number and heads to the elevator. I slowed down so that she could get on the elevator herself. There's a homeless man laying down near the entrance who asked her for money but she ignored him. When I was sure the doors of the elevator were closed I gave him the envelope. He starts to thank and pray for me with every prayer under the moon and I nod with a smile before I entered the building.

The apartment is shabby but seems to be newly renovated. It was filled with cheap items. From the little plastic plants on the tables to cheap door locks that look like they would shatter if I where to reach them.

I search for room thirteen. Where Tom Grey lives. Then I found it. I knock on the door and their was no answer.

Is he dead already?

I start to panic and pounded on the door a little harder this time. Was I too late? I didn't have to chase that thief and waste my time.

The door unlocks and a sour faced man peaks his head through. "Who are you and What do you want do you want?" he spat with a disdainful look on his face.

I clear my throat. "My name is Cameron and I'm he author of Symphony of Murder."

His brows raise with interest and he opens the door and stands outside. "Oh the book that someone is copying?"

"Yes."

He was wearing his pyjamas and he reeled of the smell of alcohol. He scratches his belly. "What business do you have with me?" he queried.

I pull up a photo of the code on my phone. "So the culprit send me a coded message and it seems like you're his next target." I explained holding up the code to his face.

He narrowed his eyes with a frown, "Why would I be? I never murdered anyone or made girls into dolls."

Never murdered anyone? Manslaughter is still murder without malice. "You know that's a lie."

His eyes widen. He realized I actually know what I'm talking about. He looks to the side, his frown deepened and his lips protruded. "That was a case of self defence it doesn't count as murder!" he emphasized the 'self defence'.

I shrug my shoulder. "That doesn't personally matter to me it was handled by the law. I'm just here to warn you because I don't want my book to be a reason people die. Even if it's bad people."

"You fucking asshole!" He grabbed me by the collar. His breath was laboured with enmity. He raised his fist to my face getting ready to collide with my bones.

I squeezed my eye shut trying to prepare mentally for the impact.

He was about to punch me but then abruptly stops. Without moving his head he snuck a look at the camera which was placed at the end of the hallway. It glowed red.

It's recording. One problem, it's a cheap kind that can only record what it's pointing at.

And It's pointing away.