The Tale of Murder and Me

Chapter 1: The Body and the Boy

Welcome to my new story! I wanted to do a non-fan fiction, so here it is. I hope you enjoy! 

Cast;

Asher Brook as Cole Dylans

Bella Thorne as Alexis Pitts

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Alexis' POV

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'Sara, you can't do that' I mutter, shoving aside my best friend. 'The equation goes here. Not there! Did you even revise?'

She rolls her eyes at me and continues doing the work wrong. I huff and turn my attention back to my own paper, which I finished before anyone in the class. I tap my pencil against my desk impatiently, wanting this double period of maths to be over.

I glance at the clock. Still another forty minutes until I can leave the classroom.

I raise my hand. Our teacher, Mr Perry, looks at me from his desk, peering over his Harry-Potter style glasses.

'Yes, Miss Pitts?'

'Can I go to the bathroom please, sir?' I ask.

'Fine'

I give him a nod as a thank-you gesture, and I grab my bag. I don't know why, I guess that leaving it alone in the presence of a kleptomaniac like Sara Rogers is a very bad idea. I stalk out the classroom and shut the door behind me.

Enderwood High is one of the biggest schools in Philadelphia. It has four huge buildings, but the third one is out of use because of a fire that happened when I was a Freshman. It was so bad that they haven't had the correct funds to fix it.

I walk down the A-Block into B-Block, where the girls toilets are. I kick open the door and head inside, plopping my bag on the counter. It seems empty, so I don't exactly have to be aware of my surroundings. 

I rifle through my stuff and produce my mascara. I picked off my mascara out of boredom, so my eye-lashes are totally bare. I give my ginger hair a quick brush and then straighten out my hoodie. I was up till 3am this morning studying, and it's hard to look half decent on four hours sleep.

I'm beginning to re-style my hair when I hear a small choking sound coming from down the aisle of the cubicles. I freeze for a second, frowning. Where did that come from?

I put down my brush and creep down the bathroom, listening out for the stall in which the crying person is. 

'Hello?' I call. 'Are you okay?'

The third stall door opens, to reveal a tall, brunette boy. Wait, a boy. What the hell is he doing in here?

'Uh, hey, dude. This is the girls bathroom'

'I know' He shrugs, wiping his eyes. 

'So...Are you okay? I couldn't help but see you were crying'

There's something in me that can't makes me feel sorry for this boy. He looks rough; his tank top is ripped and covered with something red, and he has a huge ring round his eye, and a bandage going up his left forearm.  He also has a huge gash across his forehead, that's been left an open wound.

'I've done something bad' He shrugs. 'But I shan't worry you'

I sigh, knowing I shouldn't be the sort of person to let a sad person leave while they're still crying. My parents raised me to be a nicer person than most.

'You can talk about it, if you want' I force myself to say. 'I don't mind. I'm a pretty good listener'

'I don't need to talk' He says coldly. 'I need help. But I won't be getting it from a stranger'

'Strangers are the best helpers' I shrug, now feeling the desperate need to get to the bottom of his sadness. 'They don't know you enough to judge you, right?'

'Trust me, strange girl, literally anyone would judge a killer'

He freezes at his words, slapping a hand over his mouth. I can feel myself turning paper-white.

'K-killer? Did you...kill somebody?' Oh god, I'm in a bathroom with a murderer. I make my towards the door, but he grabs me and pulls me back.

'Let go of me!' I hiss.

'Let me explain!' He snaps, not letting go. 'I had a reason. A perfectly good reason! It's not that part that's the problem!'

I don't know what to do with this information. I just left the classroom to evacuate my bowls, and a random boy, in the girls bathroom, may I add, decides to let it slip that he's murdered someone. What am I meant to do now? Leave it? Help him?

'You killed somebody!' I laugh sourly. 'Stay away from me! Forget I offered to help. Goodbye!'

'You can't walk away now!' His tone turns from sour to begging. 'At-least if you do, don't tell anyone'

He has genuine desperation is his tone, and he sounds shaky. 'You don't understand' He continues.

He's a killer. 'I do understand, very well, actually! You are a killer!' Something inside me feels sorry for the boy. He looks like he hasn't slept for decades; he probably needs stitches on his forehead; he's alone; he's desperate. 

'I know' He whispers, tears filling his eyes. 'I know. I'm aware that I've done a bad thing. But I had to! He was going to kill my sister. My baby sister. She's only three'

'Oh god' I mutter. 'Don't cry, it just makes things worse' I sigh. He seems so genuine. 'Look, just go home. I don't care why you killed a person, but you promise you're not lying?'

'I promise on my own life'

I sigh. 'Then just leave. Pretend it never happened. I won't tell anyone'

'I can't. I have some things to deal with first, but if I do it wrong then I'm gonna be the first suspect'

He looks me in the eye. His green iris' are filled with an unreadable emotion. Guilt? Sorrow? God, who knows?!

'...What do you need to do?' I frown, feeling the urgent need to help him.

'Bury the body and destroy the evidence' He sighs, after a brief pause. My jaw drops again. 

'Oh my dear baby Jesus' I mutter under my breath. 'Where did you put it?'

'It's in my trunk'

'Oh my god. Are you stupid?! If you leave traces of their DNA in the boot, the police will know you had them in there!' I take a deep breath. 'Right, where do you plan on burying it?'

'I dunno, maybe the dump?'

'The dump? That's the most cliche place. You need somewhere that the cops won't suspect. Some place you're not linked to' I ramble on. 

'How do you know all this?'

'...Shit. My parents are cops' I murmur. 'They talk about this stuff all the time'

He turns ever paler, muttering a word that I think would offend just about anyone. 'Please don't tell them'

'I won't. I'm going to help you' I snap bossily. 'I don't know why, in all honesty. But generally a good person would...Actually no, a good person would go to the police. But I'm not going to'

'Promise?'

'Promise' I respond.

Oh dear lord. I, Alexis Jane Pitts, am now a murder accomplice. And all I ever wanted to do was pee. Excellent.

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Hope you enjoyed! :3

-Jazz.