The Deceased

Chapter Seven- Discovery

Of course Jean went and got himself missing, is my first thought.

My second is since he was apparently last seen with me, by Jane and i, he went missing soon after leaving my house on his moped, and after i told him i don't and would never have feelings for him.

Which leads me to believe that he either ran away, or something happened.

I highly doubt something happened, because of the amount of times his parents have called me to say he had ran away, and it was all to get attention.

Once, back when i actually liked him, we had a small disagreement on how to complete an assignment -a disagreement that easily could have been fixed by talking- and, no joke, i got a call shortly after i went home, telling me he had ran away, and he stayed away for like, a week. How does he expect anyone to take him seriously when running away is pretty much the norm for him now?

It would explain him not showing up to school and failing to annoy me in the mornings. Why didn't i catch on earlier? That bloke is all about the attention, and i'm glad i got away sooner. Didn't stop me from being dragged into yet another one of his dramatic run-aways, though.

"What if something actually happened to him?" Jane asks on the phone straight after i've filled her in. Not that i needed to; the police approached her the same time i was being questioned. The police officer (i never got his name) wasn't the only one with questions. Dad sat there for about an hour, asking me everything that happened that day. I answered as best as i could, and left out anything that he didn't need to know. I have a feeling the questions are far from over, though.

"What happened after i left?" She asks, and i frown, having not liked the preparation in her voice. God, it's as if everyone i know believes i murdered him.

"Oh my god, you think i'm hiding his body somewhere-"

"No, no," she rushes to assure me, "seriously, i'm just curious. He did stay after i left, and if he ran away there must have been a reason..."

I ignore the meaning behind that, and lay back tiredly on the lounge. "Are you sure?" I ask, "maybe he felt like a little adventure. Maybe, he went camping, met a guy who likes Blood On The Dance floor, eloped, and took up vacancies somewhere in a hotel, with those lights that-"

"Okay, now you're starting to sound like you did murder him."

I find myself getting a tad frustrated, fingering the tiny bald patch on my scalp where i have pulled at for years, never thinking i would actually lose hair, and snap off the small hairs already growing in the place of others i have pulled out. Why did i have to be involved with someone so dramatic? I hate drama, even at school, all it does is annoy me, so how did i come up with the wonderful idea to make the head of drama, apart from Jane, my man? What a bad decision, Valerie.

With a sigh, i force my fingers by my side, "I told him to get out," i admit, realising this is the first time I've really talked about the conversation between Jean and I. "I didn't think he would get so offended. It's his fault."

Jane laughs once and hums, her thinking sound, followed by a slight creak, and i can imagine her rising from her bed, face turned into a frown. "Alright, i know it's past six, but i'm coming over, and we are going to look for Jean in the forest, and prove that you, my friend, are innocent."

My blood goes cold for the briefest moment, "the forest? Why the forest?"

She doesn't answer, even when i call her name boredly for the next minute. Then, when i pull the phone away from my ear i hear the familiar beeping of the dial tone. The bitch hung up on me.

I drop my Blackberry next to where i lay, just as dad walks around from the hallway, watching me carefully, eavesdropping i assume. After the police officer left, dad made sure to rule me out as a suspect. He asked me every possible question, even ones i didn't know the answer to, and i was convinced by his expression that he believed me. Now, with the way he looks, i'm horrified to imagine what it would feel like if my own dad thought i was a murderer.