Good old American murder

Chapter 1: Nightmares and goodbyes

The rain was pouring and Basel could barely hear anything of what Timothee was telling him. " And I thought of how much it reminded me of you. Basel, Basel are you hearing me"

" Yeah, talk a bit louder, would you. It's hard to hear you with all the rain."

" You are the one who suggested we go out to the Gazebos in the rain was it not." Timothee teased him a look of adoration in his eyes as he spoke. " You know you could have said no right."

" How could I say no to you Basel." With that Timothee started to speak again. He was reading to Basel. It had become a habit for them, Timothee reading and Basel quietly listening. This proved to be quite hard to do in the rain but it was what Basel wanted. Since he was young he adored the rain and loved the sound that the rain droplets made when they hit the ground. "Look Addy look, the sky's weeping." He would always make his caretaker accompany him outside. He didn't care if he got wet it was actually more fun that way.

He was now laying down hearing Timothee read. His voice calming him. He turned around to face him. Only it was no longer him. Timothee had his eyes closed while blood was pouring out his mouth. His once soft peach complexion was now chalky white. He was back there. At that damned school at that damned night. He screamed and cried reliving all the pain and the terror. Timothee opened his eyes and turned to face Basel placing his hand on his face. " How could I say no to you Basel."

And with that, he woke up. It took him a second to familiarize himself with his surroundings. He grabbed a couple of sleeping pills from one of the shelves situated on top of his bed. He went to the kitchen and got some water to down the pills with. He went back to bed and opened his computer. He would probably not fall asleep again. He looked at the clock it was 3:00 am.

It was eight in the morning when he stopped working. His cat D'artagnan was now taking up most of the bed and Basel didn't dare to move him. He decided to go and see if he had gotten any correspondence. He got up from bed put in his robe and went to check his mailbox.

" He skimmed the letters for anything that would prove to be interesting. D'artagnan jumped to the kitchen counter where Basel was now making breakfast, looking around to see what he could throw off the counter.

" Taxes, credit card, donations" he continued talking to himself looking extremely bored until he stopped. It was a letter addressed to him. He opened it. It was written in cursive, the same cursive that Basel knew too well. It was at that moment that Basel truly wondered if he had actually woken up from his nightmare

Wedding Night

The chapel was full of strangers' faces. Giselle had just gotten married. They had pronounced them husband and wife. She had said her vows. Vows that were not written by her. They were all lies, but she was used to telling lies. She was now married to James Kingsley. Their families had fabricated the perfect love story. They met in college. They fell in love at first sight. They waited until they both graduated college with their degrees. Useless degrees they would never have to use. James would inherit his father's media empire. Giselle would become a trophy wife. She would sip margaritas by their pool for the rest of her days.

She would be encouraged no forced to have babies. Stupid babies who cry and wail and probably see their mother once a week. Giselle would become her mother.

Now that the party had started and her husband had gone off to socialize she was guarded by her maid of honor. That was another lie. Supposedly Giselle met Maira in college and they became the best of friends. Giselle had met Maira in college, but she was James's friend, not hers. She wanted a drink. Something strong enough to endure the rest of the party.

" You shouldn't be drinking so much Elle" Maira had followed her to the bar.

" James is drinking why shouldn't I?"