When your life changes dramatically, everything around you that you looked at almost everyday changes as well.
That includes the sun, and the way it shines down on your face in mid-July, and the flowers that once looked so colorful, were now not as beautiful as I once thought they would be.
Life does that to you.
It takes a while for those things to become something you never want to look at again. Like the sun... I could have laid in the sun for hours, absorbing the light and enjoying the simple action of just laying around, without a care in the world. But as time went on, and my life changed so quickly before me, I began to despise sitting out in the sun.
At first it was a small dislike, and I found myself wishing I was inside more often. As the weeks passed by, I barely left the house, fearing the bright sun and the feeling of it washing over my skin. I never really went outside after what happened anyway.
Daisy called me at 4am on a Sunday morning, the phone dead silent.
"Daisy?" I said groggily, wondering what could have been so important that she would call me so early. "Daisy, what is it?"
"Someone is in my house," she whispered.
"What?" I sat up in bed, turning on my side lamp. I glanced out my window, noticing that all the lights were still turned off at Daisy's house. "Daisy, what are you talking about?"
"Beth, you gotta help me. He's coming up the stairs. I can hear him. Please, help me." Before I could answer, the line went dead. I sat in my room, everything deadly still.
Suddenly, I was on my feet, and everything was moving at once. I slipped on a pair of shoes, and ran out of the room, tumbling down the stairs. My parents were out of town for the weekend, and I could barely concentrate on anything but getting to Daisy's house. Swinging open the front door, I sprinted down the sidewalk until I was face to face with Daisy's front door, which was wide open.
I sucked in a deep breath, fear suddenly evading every inch of my body. What was I doing? How was I going to save Daisy? I shook my head, not letting the fear stop me from trying to help my best friend. Pure adrenaline pushed my through the doorway. I ran up the stairs as quietly as I could, noticing red droplets falling from the tops of the steps.
This made me run even faster.
I finally reached the top, trying not to step in the blood. But it was everywhere. As I walked further and further down the hallway, I noticed even more blood puddled around on the carpet. Daisy's parents were nowhere to be found, and I wondered if it was their blood on the floor. I felt vomit rising in my throat, and before I could stop myself, I was throwing up all over the the floor.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, willing myself to move on and find Daisy. I heard a thump from her room, and I began to run, not letting myself stop until I was in the doorway, frantically looking for her.
The blood looked like the paint on the walls. It was everywhere. The blankets were covered in it, the windows were slathered, the carpet was stained all over. One window was swinging open and closed, and I ran to it, looking down the side of the house. Whoever was here was gone.
"Beth." I turned around, and finally saw Daisy. She was laying on the ground, her body mangled. I ran to her, dropping to me knees, which were slowly soaking with blood. Her eyes were swollen shut, and her left cheek was torn apart. The rest of her body was covered so badly in blood I could barely see it. I looked away, concentrating on her voice.
She sounded so broken. Her voice cracked when she said my name, and I noticed her trying to speak, but was unable to get the words out.
"Daisy, who was it? Tell me who it was." I grabbed onto her hand, squeezing it lightly. "Daisy I'm so sorry."
"Bl-blue... sca-scar." She coughed, blood spurting from her mouth. I could feel tears falling down my cheeks, and I went to wipe them off, forgetting I had blood on my hands. I didn't care though. I just knew I needed to do something to help. I stood, running across the hall to her parents room. Both of them lay in bed, and I ran to them, shaking their bodies.
"Mrs. Rainer, please, Daisy's been hurt!" I shook her harder, but she didn't wake. That's when I saw it... the blood trickling from her forehead. I pushed away from her, running to her night stand to grab the phone. Dialing 911 was harder to do with bloody and shaky hands. I put the phone to my ear, waiting for someone to pick up.
"911, what is your emergency?"
"My neighbors, they've been murdered."
"Are you in the home?"
"I'm at 564 Hanover Drive, in Yarvis, California. I'm with them, they're all dead. Please, send help. Please." I hung up the phone, dropping it to the floor. Daisy was in the same place I left her, her body still.
"Daisy! Daisy, wake up!" I knelt next to her again, crying over her body.
She was gone. I knew she was. Her chest was still, and the room had went with her. The wind had even stopped howling outside. Daisy was dead.
The rest of the night was a blur. The police and the ambulance arrived, and carried me out of the room. There was so much blood. The asked me a million questions, but only one stuck out.
"Did you do it?"
Of course I didn't do it. I explained to them what had happened only fifteen minutes before, but my story was a little shaky due to the fact that they found a gun laying in my bed a little while later. I was covered in their blood, and my fingerprints were everywhere.
And suddenly, I had killed my best friend and her entire family.
YOU ARE READING
Dear Mrs. Jones
Teen FictionDear Mrs. Jones, It's not the same here anymore. Not since the accident. Everyone thinks I did it Mrs. Jones, but I didn't. You know I didn't kill that girl. But everyone else thinks it's my fault. I wish you would answer me Mrs. Jones. Yours Tr...