The Book About Murder

The Plot to Kill

I rushed home as quickly as I possibly could from the school back home, a wide smile plastered to my face as I ran. My wrist had pretty much stopped bleeding, and luckily there wasn't a person left in the school building to see the red stain left on my white hoodie. It was also helpful that my house wasn't very far at all, so I didn't have to see anyone during my sprint back home. I had to figure out my plan, since I didn't have the clue as to how to go through with a murder. Although, I can't say I haven't thought about it before. My mind is a dark place, even I can admit that, but it isn't my fault. None of this would be happening, had Annabelle not ruined my life. It was her fault, all her fault.

After a couple minutes of running as fast as I could, I had arrived at my small, two story house. It probably looked big, having a second story, but my bedroom was the only one on that floor. My mother and I were the only ones who lived in this house. I had a father, but my mom said he left soon after I was born. That was all I had heard, and I can't say I care enough to know the rest.

Although my mother shows that she cares about me, she does often have to work, so I barely have any time to see her. She's one of the very few people who acknowledge my existence, and it makes me happy that I can at least mean something special to her. Even if she's the only one, it's enough to keep me alive, however difficult it makes things for me.

The door creaked open as I walked in, shutting it behind me and locking it up before sprinting up the stairs and into my bedroom. All the while, the open mouthed smile kept it's home on my face, excitement continuing to bubble in my stomach. This was something I should have done long ago, the second I saw her perfect face, but it wasn't too late. I still have time.

After the climb up the stairs, I got to the smokey gray door that led into my bedroom and walked in, before shutting and locking it, as I did with the front door. My bag slid off my shoulder and onto the floor while I moved to the wooden desk, sitting in the black computer chair and opening up one of the drawers. Rummaging through it somewhat, I eventually pulled out a blue notebook with a pencil tucked into it's side, and I placed it onto the top of the desk. Once I had though, I became stumped as to what I should do next. I honestly had no idea what I was doing.

I leaned back in my chair with a sigh, looking up at the ceiling. "Was this really such a good idea?" I whispered to the empty air of my room. I had just kind of got the idea on impulse, and hadn't thought it out very thoroughly. I wasn't scared that I would end up getting caught, because I had nothing to lose, and it even gave me a sense of peace, the thought of being taken away from this place.

My only fear was making a mistake, an error, and not being able to go through with my plan. If I failed, she would still exist in this world, and I couldn't have any peace. There was a high chance of me doing something wrong, and she would be given the chance to live happily, in her world full of sunshine and friends, which I could not let happen. I just had no clue as to how I should do this.

Sitting back up, I gave up for a couple moments and began to flip through the pages of my notebook, slouching emptily as I looked through the different drawings and inserts. My block had quickly gone away though, once I turned to one of the pages in my notebook. I sprung back up, my imagination creating images in my head of a marvelous idea.

On the desk, marked into the paper was a drawing I did a while back. A drawing of myself, hung from the ceiling by my neck. Never have I been so happy to look at the picture, because instead of my face on the paper, my mind changed the details, projecting the face of Annabelle in my eyes.

If she killed herself, I wouldn't have to worry about being caught, right?

Even I could clearly see there was something wrong with my idea. Annabelle wouldn't ever kill herself, since her life was perfect in every way. Such a joyful world, would anyone want to leave? I knew she wouldn't kill herself, but that didn't mean I couldn't make it appear that way. Yes, if she was found in her house, seeming to have hung herself, people would most likely assume she had done the work herself.