New York City was very crowded, but in her large, isolated apartment, Chelsea could never have felt more alone. Neighbors down the street blasted loud rap, blocking out the sounds of harsh gun shots and blaring sirens. Laughter and music carried down the street into the Selsia residence with the smell of sweet barbecue.
“Another night alone; another party I wasn’t invited to,” Chelsea grumbled.
Why would she be? She hadn’t set foot outside of the apartment for years since her parents had become licensed doctors. Chelsea received late-night house-call check-ups and physicals so as to never leave the house.
Chelsea heard shouts from outside along with loud crashing, gunshots, and a blood-curdling scream. She had become accustomed to these sorts of noises, and didn’t bother to look up from her papers.
Hours later, as Chelsea Selsia was falling asleep in her history book, private investigators outside were observing her parents belongings to find photos in each wallet labeled “Chelsea; Our Only Child.”