Murders Of The Past

ELEVEN

I STAND UP from the bed and walk towards the door when suddenly Carlos walks in. I immediately feel annoyed and back away. He looks at me before moving his eyes to my stolen shoes.

"You need to take those back."

"Can't. They've already been worn. No refunds." He sighs.

"Where are you going?" He asks, stepping closer to me.

"On a run."

"On a run?"

"Yeah." I cross my arms, narrowing my eyes. "Are you going to accuse me of being a runaholic too?" Carlos gives me a look.

"Sadie." He places his hands on my shoulders but I step away from him. Hurt flashes through his eyes as he drops his arms to his sides. "Sadie," he repeats, gentle and softer. The sorry look in his eyes makes me want to step down and accept his concerns, but the old Sadie- the one who's suddenly back and begging to be freed- makes me stay on my high horse.

"I'm going on a run now." I walk past him and out of our room, down the stairs, and out the door.

MY LUNGS BURN, but I don't care. I keep running. I don't even know why I'm running. Why don't I just go back to the hotel? I close my eyes. Yeah, go back to the hotel and lay in the soft bed with the thick blankets and air conditioning while watching movies and eating ice cream. Suddenly I remember why I'm running. I've become a bum.

Something hits my body, sending me to fly back to the ground. I open my eyes, finding a fence in front of me. I growl.

"Who put this damn fence here!" I shout at no one in particular. I huff, placing my hands on either side of me and pushing myself up, but my legs give out. "Damn legs," I mutter, trying again. "Work you, bastards."

"Are you okay?" My eyes snap up to pair with dark brown ones filled with amusement.

"Do I fucking look okay!" I snap. The boy presses his lips together, shaking his head. "My legs are broken!" I scream in frustration. "I need new legs!" I tilt my head back, shouting into the sky, "Give me new legs!"

"I would give you mine, but they're kind of important." I look at the boy again and down at his hairy legs. I cringe.

"Hell no, look at those hairy beasts." The boy bursts into laughter.

"You could always shave them." I quirk a brow.

"You think I have time for that?"

"Are you saying you don't shave your legs?" I look down at my legs, which are still laying on the ground in front of me.

"Alright guys, you gotta work now," I order them, ignoring the boy's question. "We have to get out of here and away from this creep." I hear the boy snort.

"I'm not a creep." I look up at him, tilting my head to the side.

"You're definitely a creep."

"How?" I bring my hand up to point at his legs.

"Those legs. They're hairier than my Dad's mustache!" Once the words leave my mouth I instantly regret it. Feeling tears brim my eyes I force my eyes away from his. Another reason I'm running, to shut my mental pain up.

"Are you okay?" I shrug my shoulders.

"I'm as okay as a girl like me can ever be." The boy stares at me for a minute.

"What does that mean?" I shake my head, rising to my feet.

"It means you should leave me alone." I turn and start walking. He starts following me, the fence separating us.

"Do you want to come over here?" I look at him, my hands on my hips. "To play basketball," he explains.

"Nah, I'm not really a team player."

"No? Just a loner?" I press my lips together, nodding.

"Yeah."

"I'm Wesley." I turn my head, stopping when I realize we're at the end of the fence, and now nothing is separating us. I look down at his extended hand. "And you are..."

"Erm, Caroline." I take his sweaty hand. Yup. I'm Caroline Bane. Wife of Dennis Bane and mother of Sadie Bane. No wait. I'm dead. And so is my daughter. I'm a ghost! No I'm not, I'm Sadie Bane, but I'm supposed to be dead.

"Caroline." The boy nods. "You don't look like a Caroline." I raise a brow.

"Then what do I look like?"

"Wesley!" Wesley looks over his shoulder at the group of guys watching him. The one holding a basketball shouts, "Are you done or what!" Wesley looks back at me.

"You should play a game, it'll be fun." I smirk.

"Your version of fun and my version of fun are two very different things." Wesley gives me a look, practically pleading me to join him. I sigh. "Alright, fine." I step over to his side and walk with him towards the other boys.

"Do you know how to play?" Hm. I know there's a ball, and I have to get that ball into the hoop. Do I know the specifics? No. I shake my head. "OK, so the rules are- "

"Don't bother," I wave my hand, "I don't follow rules."