AN: This is for an school assignment, and if you'd all proof read it and comment on mistakes, I'll love you all forever. Thank you :} & Yes, it had to be this short.
MASQUERADE BLOOD
Jessica Wigley. 9OPAL.
•••
A whole point of a part of a party is laughter: in this case it was tears. Those tears were full of joy, happiness and gratitude; a new happy married couple was in the world, and hopefully, they will both stand in their promise of staying together – forever and happy. Most of human life knew that was never the case, or that it was harder than it was spoken: being married wasn’t always happy, and there was those times when you wanted to rip each other’s heads off, but hopefully no one ever did that.
Theodore Page was wealthy and was living life to its fullest, or really, was living life in its fullest. His big stomach was bloated, his grey hair was frilly on top of his round head, with his grey tuxedo on, and he could instantly say that grey suited him perfectly: it was his colour, always has been, ever since he was a baby boy.
“Excuse me.” Theodore spoke, interrupting two ladies conversation. They glanced at him questioningly, and he waited for them to move a little bit so people could walk past them, it took them a while for them to understand. Walking over to a young female, who looked 17 but was in fact, 25, he placed his chubby hand on her shoulder, she jumped instantly, surprised by his gesture. “I’m going up to the roof for a cigarette, darling, I shan’t be that long.”
“Oh, daddy, I do wish you’d stop that horrendous hobby of yours.” The female replied, smiling gently up at Theodore, the look a daughter gave to a loving father, oh how Theodore was so proud. He had successfully created a mature young lady, one day going to be chief of his own detective agency.
“See you in 15, Tegan.” Theodore smiled, as he walked off up the stairs.
Everyone was oblivious to the dark shadow following Theodore up the staircase onto the roof. Theodore should be happy for Jacob and Rocha, and he was, honestly, but weddings always made him feel upset and full of grief for his deceased wife: who had been murdered 5 months earlier. The killer was much too easy to be found out, almost like he wanted to be found out. Now, leaning against the railing, as Theodore quietly searched for the packet of cigarettes and a lighter in his tuxedo pocket, it didn’t take him long to find them, it took him long enough to light up the lighter, it made stubborn clicking sounds, or well, he thought it was the lighter. A gentle cough behind him caused him to turn to see a female he knew too well, her beautiful brown hair, her green shining eyes were like ponds, her long legs against her black shining dress, what she was doing here was no mystery, she was also a good friend of Rocha’s, who was Sasha’s modelling partner in a lot of photoshoots. Something Theodore didn’t notice was the silver pistol pointing right at his forehead.
“I killed your wife.” The girls hiss slithered from her pink lips, amusement flowing from the tone as Theodore’s face was thrown in confusion. “You should’ve got a divorce. No one would have gotten hurt.” It was like slow motion, the silencer around the gun wouldn’t make any noise, but to Theodore, it was the loudest sound ever to be heard.
•••
“He was my father! This is my case.” I pouted my lips gently, towards the brunette male who was Theodore’s old best friend, Tobey Moranthè, who wouldn’t give me the case willingly. “I know my father better than all of you, why can’t I find out who this mongrel is?”
Tobey sighed, his expression was perfect to read, ‘she doesn’t understand’, the hell I don’t! “It’s too dangerous, Tegan, you’re full of grief, you can’t do this job without it getting to your head.” Tobey already said this: a thousand times in fact.
“Fine! I’ll go by myself; I don’t need your endorsement.” I spoke, scowling up at the tall male, whose face rapidly turned into shock, and I knew I’d gotten his go-ahead.
“Bring Nesta with you, she can keep an eye on you, and be careful.” Tobey’s words just made my day even better.
I nodded, and flicked the blonde hair off my face as I made my way towards Nesta and told her the news. We got to work early, and listed everyone who was there, and those we saw during the time my father apparently got shot.
“We didn’t see Sasha or Mathias during that time.” Nesta spoke the inedible, just as she spoke those words Nesta’s body cringed, it was too hard to her to suspect her adoptive parents, but it was true, what she said, no one saw Sasha or Mathias during that time: we asked around.
“No one in the right mind would suspect Sasha, though. But Mathias, I’m sorry, has a grudge against my father, after that time between . . .” I stopped speaking as I glanced down, we were both cringing now.
“No, Sasha wouldn’t do that.” Nesta agreed, but her voice wasn’t so sure.
Straight away, both Nesta and myself went over towards the Moranthè’s to officially arrest Mathias, I had told Nesta to wait in the car, it would be too emotional for Nesta to arrest him, I was focused on finishing this job and putting the person behind bars: no matter who it was. We headed back to the agency to question Mathias, and he was calm, so sure, that in our discussion about it afterwards was a complete mess: it could go both ways, he’s too sure of himself and is covering up the conscience to own up and is hiding the guilt, or he’s too sure that he’s innocent and is actually innocent. Whilst the interview happened, we had sent a couple investigators to head back to the house and look through the crime scene. There was nothing there.
That night I dreamt of my father’s funeral, once again, the reception had been surrounded by both photos of my mother, himself, and myself, and his favourite flowers, a little snack bar with his favourite snacks, his loved ones, it was just a nice quite reception, some of us thought, or better word to use was pretended, that it was a small get together. We buried him an hour later, in a beautiful spot, which wasn’t that crowded with other graves.
The next morning I was woken up by my loud ringing from my phone. It was Nesta, speaking so quickly that I didn’t understand her at all.
“Slow down, Nesta, I can’t understand you.” I chuckled, my laugh shaky knowing whatever she was saying was going to either help us or not do anything, but she seemed happy to say this.
“We got evidence, it’s not good for me, but it will definitely help us in the case – I guess that’s all that matters, even if my family is broken apart.” Nesta spoke it with one breath, that I was sure. I told her I’d be there as quick as I can.
I got there 15 minutes later, in the forensic room, there was a silver pistol, and the brand was the exact same as the bullet that was lodged into my father’s brain. I glanced over to Nesta, my hands squeezing hers tightly, awaiting for the DNA test to hurry up and do its job. Across the room, was Sasha and Mathias, both eager to find out who really was the killer: both of them knew who’d done it, and hopefully, the right one would be behind bars.
“The killer is not Mr Moranthè.” There was a sigh of relief by everyone. “It was harder to find the fingerprints off it, due to it been worn with woollen gloves. But we found only two: just two. None of them match Mr Moranthè’s. It is either Ash Torrens, who we know as the storeman of the local gun shop, and has told us he sold a gun exactly like this 5 months ago, it cannot be him, and therefore, the killer is Sasha Moranthè.”
We all gasped, glancing over towards Sasha, whose eyes were wide with anger. Tobey, who had walked into the room, went over to Sasha and handcuffed her.
“It was also me who killed Gwyneth; they both got what they deserved.” Sasha smirked, as Tobey pulled her away. That day ended with tears, and happiness, grief, and the shocking scream of love being broken – by Mathias to Sasha.
