Gracie Freaking Hall

Brianna

 "Un-freaking-believable," I say as a look of disgust embeds my beautiful face at the small group of people who had gathered for the memorial service. The memorial service took place somewhere I was not too happy about, to say the least. I glared at them from inside the safety of my car, not wanting to get out. Of all the places to hold a memorial service, they had chosen the cemetery. I guess in a twisted sense it made sense, wanting to be close to a loved one, but why would you want to be outside when inside was far better?

With a huff of annoyance, I get out of the car and watch as the wind lifts my dress a little. My attire was fitting for the attention I was expecting. I wore a simple black silk dress that reached just right below my ass and showed more cleavage than necessary. My hair was up in a perfectly styled bun with dangling gold earrings in my hair. The platform heels carried me to stand a few inches from the group, in front of her photo, as the pastor read a verse from the bible. No one had noticed me as they all sat in their chairs, mindlessly following along.

The small memorial service was decorated with a banner that hung above her grave that read, "Gracy Hall," while chairs littered the small area. As I look out into the crowd, I can make out many faces who I had passed by briefly in my life but had never given Gracy a second glance unless it was out of pure hatred. Now they were all adoring faces all thanks to the media coverage received and multiple printed articles. When her body had been found in the river, there was nothing the cops could do to keep it quiet. The lifeless body of one of the most hated, now turned most loved, killed by the hands of the one most loved, now most hated. I despised our role reverses, even in death she was a bane in my existence. It was my own fault really, taking her in like a wounded bird, only for her to turn on me and use her sharp talons to ruin me. Just remembering made my body shiver and not in a good way.

I remember sitting in the interrogation room, the media was having a field day with the news. Evidence of foul play was found everywhere, and most importantly, proof that I had done it was there. I had tried to be so careful yet managed to fuck up along the way, and they were able to catch me in a matter of hours. The room was dimly lit as I sat tied to the metal table as if I were a hardened criminal. A girl fucks up once and now she's labeled for life.

"Brianna, can I get your statement about what happened tonight? Do you have anything to say to the town?"

I give the reporter a blank look. He was a young guy, guessing in his early 20s, and wearing an old-fashioned hat paired with a simple brown suit. The camera slung on his neck, that I could see the burn marks from wearing it too long, pen and paper in his hand as he stared at me thirsty for information. But I didn't have any new information to spill. So instead, I chose to toy with him.

"Why don't you sit down and keep me company instead?" I say and bite the side of my lip giving him hooded eyes filled with lust. He wasn't ugly but I wasn't attracted to him, just bored and fed up with the questions.

He sits down but his pen is ready at a moment's notice on the notepad as he stares at me with anticipation. "Why'd you do it, Brianna?" He gives me his wide sickening eyes, after the scoop of the century. "A bright girl like you with her whole life ahead of her, decided to kill her best friend? I don't buy it," he tells me then lifts an eyebrow, "unless you prove me otherwise."

I can't help but let out a heartfelt laugh that caused a single tear to trickle down my face. It had been a rough night and laughter seemed spared to me, but at this moment, it was all I could do. He stares at me with shocked eyes, not believing that I could have killed someone hours ago and be sitting here laughing with him as if we were old friends and he had told the joke of the year. Once the laughter died in my throat I clasped my hands together and leaned in closer to him. "You want me to sit here and tell you what went down? What spurred me to kill her." I shake my head, "she had it coming long before me. The whole town hated her but I was the only one who had the courage to pull the trigger, literally, because she crossed one too many lines." He enthusiastically writes and I scoff because I knew it didn't matter what I said, that wasn't the story he was going to print. So I continue my tangent, "You asked me to prove you otherwise but did you ever consider, why would I take the fall for killing if I hadn't done it? I gain nothing from this but lose everything. My reputation and the power I had gained even at my age has all crumbled because of-" I lean on the chair now, "Gracy freaking Hall."