The Darkness In You

I get excused from maths homework

If you read this thinking, oh, Aspen, playing detective sounds cool, can I investigate with you?

No. Stop reading this book and find some other productive thing to do. It's not 'playing' detective. It's not a game. It hurts. Both physically and emotionally. And sometimes, it gets you killed in painful, disgusting ways.

It doesn't work that way. Most people won't discover what I did. Destiny brought me here, or a dumb mixture of parentage and coincidence. Watching the news and trying to find who died recently, no. It'll just give false hope to the family and friends of the deceased.

Talking of family and friends of the deceased:

Hello, my name is Aspen. I'm fifteen years old and as of six months ago, I don't go to school.

I returned from school, left my school bag dumped in the hallway and headed to the living room, greeting my mum from the doorway. My cat, Sandy, purred and nudged my legs, and I picked her up, stroking her light caramel fur. I let her land on the sofa and gave her another stroke.

'D'you want an ice cream?' I asked my mum as I walked to the kitchen.

'Are there any left? You've been eating them all up!' she replied jokingly. I opened the freezer door, a waft of frozen air blasting my face with fresh coolness after a hot summers day. The top drawer opened, and I grabbed three ice creams and closed the freezer door. As I walked past the sofa, I threw one packet in the direction of my mum, grinned as she caught it with one hand. 'Good catch!' she said.

'Good throw.' I retorted, grabbing my bag, and ran up the stairs. My dad's door was closed, but I knocked and shoved it open, dropped the ice cream packet onto his work desk. He smiled, thanking me, and I went to my room, slammed the door behind me and slumping my bag against my desk.

I looked at my phone, typing in the memorised 5-digit code. 13755. If you put that into letters, with a little bit of changing it around because of double digits, it spells my name, Aspen. As I unlocked the phone, I saw a notification pop up on YouTube. My friend, replying to my post. I responded quickly, my fingers gliding over the small keyboard hovering on the screen. I laid on my bed, headphones clamped over my ears. I unwrapped the ice cream, throwing the wrapper in the general direction of the bin.

As I scrolled through my subscriptions, reading posts about book recommendations, shoutouts to new members of our community, etc,  I click on my friend's profile, comment on her latest video, screaming appreciation for the hours of work she put into a thirty second video. I double tap the screen, watch it over, mesmerising colours folding into images in my mind. I smile, seeing the dedication she puts into making me smile as I scroll to her next video, my profile picture surrounded by hearts as she sings in the background, she left the words 'I love you' stuck in my head in her beautiful voice, echoing in circles as I rose from my bed and took off my headphones, sat at my desk, taking out my laptop.

I looked at my assignments and take out my maths book, pen in hand. Just as I finished writing the title, a notification pops up on my phone. A text from my school friend, Isa. Or, at least that's what it seems. As I read it, it turns out to be Isa's mum, Claire, asking me whether Isa had come round to my house after school. I send back a quick 'no, why?'. She tells me Isa hadn't come home from school that day. I immediately become panicked, as the Isa I knew wouldn't just go to someone's house without asking her mum first. I sent a quick text back saying I'd be there soon, and I ran downstairs, told my mum that I'm going to Isa's house to do homework. I don't know why I didn't tell her the truth. I suppose I didn't want to worry her. I take my bike out the garage, closing the door behind me, and sprint (or whatever the equivalent of sprinting is on a bike) to Isa's house.

I rang the doorbell, and frantically locked my bike to the post next to the front door. Claire opened the door, and invited me in. We sat at the kitchen table, the only room with a window facing the front door. I told her everything I knew, from recent events at school to the last few interactions I'd had with her. I sent a message on the group chat, mine and Isa's friend group. Within a few minutes, a couple people responded, saying no, they hadn't seen her. Claire hands me Isa's phone, and to me, that was the thing that made me know something was wrong. Isa wouldn't leave her phone at home. I'd seen her using her it at school that day anyway. That meant she came home before disappearing. I asked Claire if she'd called the police yet, and she shook her head.

I took my phone from its pocket and typed three numbers into it, fingers shaking as they glided over the dark screen, a flashing red message warning me with a 15% written in capitals. I dismiss the notification, and put the call on speaker, laying the phone on the table between us. I glanced at Claire, who was hyperventilating, hands shaking. I spoke to the operator, tried to calmly explain the situation and file a missing person report. The operator argued back, and said that we needed to wait 24 hours before we could file a report.

I hung up, and as the doorbell rung, I rushed to open it, and was surprised to see my other friend, Luca. He walked in, and I explained the situation. Luca and I took off to the police station, quickly letting Claire know where we were going. I mounted my bike, pedalling as fast as I could, Luca trailing behind me on his electric scooter.

As we pulled up to the station, we parked our vehicles on a bike park in the neighbouring street. We walked towards the entrance, and upon our arrival at the reception desk, we immediately demanded to file a missing person's report. The receptionist gave us a form to fill out, and we sat down at a desk in the corner.