Echoes of the Fallen

Chapter 17: Discovery of the Bodies

Michelle's POV

The late afternoon sun filters through the city, casting long shadows on the sidewalk as I make my way back to the apartment. There's a light breeze, cool against my skin, and for a moment, it almost feels peaceful. I had a productive day—got a lot done at the library, even ran into an old friend from one of my classes who offered to help with my research. I'm feeling hopeful, optimistic even, like things might be starting to turn around.

As I climb the stairs to our apartment, that faint sense of unease that's been lurking in the back of my mind all day starts to resurface. I brush it off as leftover stress—I've been running on high alert ever since Bella started voicing her concerns about Matthew. But things have been better lately, quieter. Maybe we've finally found a new normal.

I fumble with my keys at the door, balancing a stack of books in one hand. The key slips into the lock, and I turn it, pushing the door open with a small sigh of relief. Home. The familiar scent of our apartment greets me—a mix of lavender from Bella's favorite air freshener and the faint lingering aroma of Bethany's cooking from this morning.

"Hey, I'm back!" I call out, expecting to hear Bella or Bethany's voice in return. But there's nothing. Just an empty, unsettling silence.

I step inside, closing the door behind me with my foot. The living room is eerily quiet, the kind of silence that feels heavy, oppressive, like the air itself is holding its breath. I set my books down on the coffee table, glancing around. Everything seems normal—nothing out of place, but there's a tension in the air that I can't quite shake.

"Bella? Bethany?" I call out again, louder this time. Still no answer.

A prickle of unease crawls up my spine as I move through the apartment. The door to Bella's room is slightly ajar, and I push it open slowly, half-expecting to find her napping or lost in one of her many books. But the room is empty, the bed made, and everything in its place.

My heart starts to beat a little faster. Something's wrong. I can feel it in my gut, a cold, twisting sensation that makes my mouth go dry. I check the kitchen next—no sign of them. The bathroom door is open, the lights off. Nothing. I feel a rising panic clawing at my chest as I move back towards the living room.

That's when I notice it—a slight, almost imperceptible trail of something dark leading towards Bethany's room. My breath catches in my throat, my mind struggling to comprehend what I'm seeing. I follow the trail, each step feeling like it takes a lifetime.

The door to Bethany's room is closed, but there's something about it that feels wrong, like a barrier between me and something I don't want to see. My hand shakes as I reach for the doorknob, a deep sense of dread settling in my stomach. I don't want to open it. I don't want to see what's on the other side.

But I have to.

I turn the knob, pushing the door open with a shaky breath. The room is dim, the curtains drawn, casting everything in a sickly, muted light. And then I see them—Bella and Bethany, lying on the floor, their bodies twisted in unnatural angles, so still, so lifeless.

"No," I whisper, the word escaping my lips before I can stop it. My knees give out beneath me, and I collapse to the floor, the world around me narrowing to a single point of horror.

"Bella! Bethany!" I crawl toward them, my hands trembling as I reach out to touch Bella's cheek. It's cold, too cold. Her eyes are open, staring blankly at the ceiling, and I know—God, I know she's gone. But my mind refuses to accept it. I shake her, my voice cracking as I plead with her to wake up, to tell me this is some horrible mistake.

But she doesn't move. She can't move.

I turn to Bethany, my heart shattering as I take in the sight of her. There's a gash on her head, dried blood matting her hair, and her hand is outstretched toward Bella as if she tried to reach her in her final moments. Tears blur my vision as I cradle her lifeless body in my arms, rocking back and forth as sobs wrack my entire being.

"No, no, no, no..." I chant, my voice hoarse and broken. "Please, please, don't leave me. Don't leave me."

But it's too late. They're gone. Both of them are gone, and I'm alone. The realization slams into me with the force of a freight train, and I scream—a raw, guttural sound that rips through the silence, echoing off the walls of the apartment.

How could this happen? How could this be real? My mind is spinning, reeling from the shock, but somewhere in the back of my mind, a horrible, nagging thought takes root. Matthew. He's the only one who could have done this. He's the only one who had the opportunity, the motive.

Anger bubbles up inside me, mixing with the overwhelming grief until it's all I can feel, all I can think about. He did this. He took them from me. And he's going to pay.

I gently lay Bethany's body back down, wiping the tears from my face with trembling hands. I have to call the police. I have to get help. But even as I reach for my phone, I know it won't be enough. Justice won't bring them back. Justice won't erase the image of their lifeless bodies from my mind.

I stumble to my feet, my vision blurred with tears as I dial 911. The operator's voice is distant, almost muted, as I struggle to explain what I've found, what's happened. But I can't get the words out. All I can do is cry, my heart breaking with every passing second.

"Please... please help me..." I manage to choke out before the phone slips from my grasp, clattering to the floor. I fall to my knees again, the weight of the loss crushing me, suffocating me.

This can't be happening. This can't be real. But the cold, hard reality is staring me in the face, and there's no escaping it. My best friend, my sister, and the love of my life—they're gone. And I'm never going to see them again.

All I can do is hold onto them, hold onto the memory of their laughter, their warmth, even as the world around me collapses into darkness.

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