Logan, Annette Winbolt's boyfriend, had called again. Again, he had been drinking. It was becoming a regular thing. She was used to his flair for the dramatic; his sense of sentimentality, but she hadn't expected the two characteristics to fuse so abruptly as they had tonight.
The conversation had started simple enough with the usual: hey how's it going, how have you been, have you missed me? She'd given sincere (but routine at this point) answers. Everything was as well as could be expected, she'd been alright, and of course she had missed him. Everyday she missed him, missed his smile, missed the way his cologne rubbed off on whatever she wore so that a piece of him seemed to linger hours after they'd said goodnight.
Tonight the conversation had changed. He'd asked how much she missed him and what she'd be willing to do about it. There had been a sadness to his voice, but also an edge. She asked if his frat brothers were listening in or egging him on. Rather than answer, he'd proposed. Over the phone. As tactiful as she could, she'd told him to call back when he was sober.
He'd only been away a little over a year. Still, she suspected they were growing apart; becoming different people. He wanted the easy path: drinks with friends, predictable home life, a career his father had picked for him before he was even born. That wasn't the life she'd envisioned.
There wasn't anything inherently wrong with wanting security and routine. But she craved a bit of spontaneity; of not having the course of her life mapped out to follow, with no say in the matter. Her father had called it rebellion when she opted to take a gap year between high school and college. Logan, like her father, tried to lecture her on priorities, but her Independent nature wouldn't hear it. While he was still in the midst of laying out his argument, she'd mentally disconnected. Before he was through, she hung up.
She borrowed her mother's coat and headed outside, away from her mother's party that was now in full swing. She often preferred her own company. Without conscious thought about her destination, she began walking while she mulled the situation over in her mind.
The soft, damp grass of the forgotten cemetery muted the sound of footsteps. Annette wandered through, unaware she was being followed. Had she turned around she would have seen the shadowy figure creeping ever closer.
Her sister discovered her body around lunch time the following day.
