Part 1: @-syeda_zainab- An abrupt, swift bullet whizzed past me, as I felt my thick notebook slightly slip out of my grasp. "OI!" I hollered, darting towards the running shadow, who leaped over honking cars and dashed alongside bolting buses in the city night. - You're probably wondering what's happening right now, so here's some context: I'm Zehra Farooqi, and I'm a survivor of arson. That's the mysterious perpetrator, whose blue hoodie is swishing in the breeze. For good measure, we're going back. More specifically, a single month ago, when I began solving the mystery, after the last ashes of my house died down. March - I was determinedly jotting down words on my diary, marking words with bold highlighters and markers. Finished, I arose from my chair, leaving the book on my desk. After strolling to my bed nearby, I flumped on it, and turned to my murder board on the sun-streaked wall...
