C O M P L E T E - first draft.
7x featured story.
Undiscovered Gem, Romance Ambassadors, January 2025.
Ambys 2024 Favourite - Mystery & Thriller
***
I don't register what comes first--Mum's screams and curses, or the searing pain that perforates...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
---
September 26th
Z A C H A R Y
I lean against the windowsill, looking through the thin, dirty glass of my bedroom window at the dreary view. The only source of light in my room is the flickering screen of my decade-old TV as it broadcasts the local news channel.
But I don't have it in me to stare at it as the grave-faced reporter does their job. The latest breaking news story has fucked me up even more than my conversation with Carmen yesterday.
Cory Ellis is dead. Found stabbed, decaying and washed up on a riverbank.
Following Fred's disappearance, my gut instinct told me the body was his. Shit, everyone thought it was his body. Not for a split second did anyone think it belonged to disgraced rich boy Cory Ellis.
But it's true, and now I feel like even more of an asshole for what I did to Carmen—no matter how much my feelings may have changed between then and now.
I took advantage of her in order to find her brother. In order to find that bastard burner phone. And, on the very day that slimeball Jamie Ackhurst spat these terrible truths at her, the police found her brother dead.
Murdered, most likely, judging by the circumstances.
Part of me wants to be pissed at Jamie, but, ultimately, I can't hold him accountable. It's my fault Carmen's upset with me. Despite my reasons for doing what I did, I hurt her and I take full responsibility for it.
I want to go to her. Hug her. Comfort her, and tell her how fucking sorry I am. But I know full-well that I am the last bastard she'll want to see right now.
For what seems like forever, I watch the rain smack against the window and follow each individual droplet as it trickles down the filthy surface. Eventually, it grows boring, and I move to throw myself beneath my unkempt bedsheets and call it a night.
But the sound of hurried footsteps and an irritated voice make me pause.
I move back towards the window and squint to see better outside, where I spot a figure wearing a hood. Unable to make out their identity from here, I open my bedroom window without making a sound, and the angry tone of the person becomes more audible.
"What the fuck do you mean? How do you not know we dumped it there or not?" The voice spits, and I recognise it as Jamie's.
Spying through the now-ajar window, I notice that he's on the phone. He stops speaking for a moment whilst as he paces back and forth uncomfortably across the wet paving slabs. Then he talks again.
"Why didn't you make sure before I buried it all?! Is it even that important?! What the fuck could even be on there?!" he growls, pauses for a few seconds, and then carries on. "Fuck sake! You're joking, aren't you?!"
