The Truth Behind The Lies

• Chapter Two •

"We did it, Jamie, we did it!" Ken comes hurtling towards me, certificate in hand and embraces me so tight, I almost trip. I brush Ken's blonde hair out of my mouth and wait for her to release me, so I can breathe normally. "Yeah Ken, we did it," I force a smile at Ken, hoping she doesn't notice that something's wrong. "You looked mega hot up there, Jamie! Your legs, oh God, your legs in those heels were to die for! I even saw that creep, Zed, staring at you, told you he likes you Jamie, ew." I try to focus on Ken's words, but my mind keeps returning to the note, which is now crumpled up in my hand. I want to take another look at it, study it properly, but I don't want to arouse any suspicion from Ken or my parents, who walk towards me, arms outstretched.
"My baby, well done, your father and I are ever so proud of you." My mother embraces me and the familiar smell of her perfume fills my nostrils.
"Move Victoria, let me have a go." My father pulls my mother away from me and embraces me in an even tighter hug.
"Congratulations baby, you're all grown up now," my father sniffs into my ear.
"Thanks, dad. I couldn't have done it without you both." I plant a kiss on both my parent's cheek and ask them both to excuse me, whilst I visit the bathroom.

I bolt out of the hall as fast as I can,  dodging and swerving ecstatic graduates and their families. Out in the corridor, there are even more people, celebrating, drinks in hand. My luck for finding a secluded spot was looking quite slim. I make my way up to the library, hoping upon hope that people haven't taken their celebration there.

As I enter the library, a shock of relief overcomes me, it is empty. I take a seat and unfold the now sweaty note. "It is time you knew the truth, Jamie." Below the message is a web link, is this where I would find the so called truth? I let out a sharp breath, realising I was holding it in out of sheer nervousness. But why am I so nervous? Chances are, this is just some stupid prank that someone is playing on me. Maybe it's that guy who claimed to see me drop the note. But why would he do that, I don't even know him? There's really only one way to find out.

I reluctantly make my way towards a computer and login. As I wait for the screen to load, I get a call from my father.
"Where are you Jamie, you've been gone ages? We're going out for a celebration lunch with the Mannings remember, hurry up."
"Sorry dad, I just bumped into a few friends, ten more minutes, promise." I hang up, feeling guilty having lied. I return my focus to the computer and hit the internet icon. I take out the note to type in the web link, my so called Samaritan had provided. My fingers hover over the keyboard. Am I stupid for taking this so seriously? I mean what if I visit the link and it turns out to be some sort of a ghost-popping-out-into-my-face kind of prank? Or what if there really is some kind of truth that this persons wants me to acknowledge? I realise I don't have much time, I type in the web link and I wait.

Seconds feel like hours, as the web page loads. I get another call from my father, but this time I ignore it, I'll be done soon anyway. Finally, the page loads.

It wasn't really what I was expecting. No spooky faces popping up. No advertisement trying to sell me weight loss tablets. Just a couple of harmless newspaper articles. The first extract is taken from a sixteen year old article, featured in The Russian Times. The bold title states: 'Dead body of girl, aged 5, found.' Below the caption is a headshot of the girl. She has short, dark hair, dark eyes and chubby cheeks, overall, cute. The face is vaguely familiar to me, like I've seen it somewhere, I just can't remember where. Maybe I've come across it on the news or even seen the newspaper article years ago, hence the vague memory. As I look into the girl's empty eyes, I can't help but feel sorry for both her and her parents.

But, what did this person want me to find? How did the tragedy with this young girl relate to me? With time ticking away, I quickly skim over the article, trying to take in the main bits. The girls body was dug up in a construction site two years after her death. I reach the middle of the article and I stop dead.
My heart skips a beat.
breath gets stuck in my throat.
I feel the hair all over my body stand on end.
How could this be?
The girl was identified as Jamie Presley.

With numb fingers, I scroll down to the second article. It was published in the same year as the first, just a few months after. This article claimed that there was a mistake with the identification of the body and that the girl was not Jamie Presley as initially thought. The article continues to highlight that the police and investigative team are immensely sorry for their mistake and misidentification.

I go back to the picture of the little girl and try and place where I've seen it before. I think long and hard, but the more I think about it, the further away the memory seems. None of this makes any sense. What has any of it got to do with me? What was this "truth" that the person wanted me to know?

Then it hits me, sixteen years ago, I was also five years old.
My name is also Jamie Presley.
Surely, this cannot be a coincidence.