10:04 AM
October 12
The cloud white tiles on my kitchen counter are cool to my touch as I swipe my hand across it, grabbing my phone. I sit down on a metal stool next to the table. I check my messages nervously, waiting. I tap the the table. One finger tip after another anxiously rolling down on the wood. I reach down and peel a piece of baby blue paint off of the side of the stool under me.
Where is he? I think loudly in my mind. I take a shaky deep breath and inspect the weather app.
Something to do while I wait. Even the voice in my head sounds panicked. Cloudy with a thirty percent chance of rain around three in the afternoon. It's ten in the morning now. I put my phone down and take another ineffective deep breath. I stand up and fast walk down the hall to the bathroom. Shaking, I twist the sink faucet. I make a cup with my hands and collect the water, it's getting colder every second. Drops of water start to seep through the bottoms of my hands so I quickly splash it on my cheeks. I watch through the mirror at the water streaming down my face and onto my neck. I look down at the sink and see blood stains from last night, mixing with the water.
I gasp.
Oh my god! My mind yells. I reach out to grab a sponge or nail brush but my other hand slips off of the side of the sink and I fall face first into the bloody mess. I scream and fall back onto the wall. I shrink down and wrap my hands on my knees, slowly rocking back and forth. I am terrified, I am alone, I am being tortured by my own brain. I wipe blood from the sink of off my cheeks and nose with a hand towel, and then in panic, throw the towel across the room into the toilet.
Shivering, I push my back against the wall and slide up onto my feet. I stumble over to the toilet and pull down on the chain. The bloody towel swirls around and around a couple times and then is consumed into the pipes. In the kitchen I hear my phone go off. I sprint out of the bathroom and down the hall. I grab my phone from the table and turn it on as I sit on the stool. The message I've been waiting for is here.
To: Clara
Go! They're coming!
From: Ian
I type back: Who's coming? But before I press send the doorbell goes off. I stand up. I walk through the living room and to the door. I twist the handle and swing it open. Two men hold up police badges.
"Clara Taylor, you're under arrest for the murder of August Ganley." My jaw drops as I swing my head around to see the door to the kitchen. I hear my phone go off again as they handcuff me.
"If you do say anything, it can be used against you in a court of law, " the taller cop says.
I want to know what Ian said in the text. I don't want to go to jail.
"Stop!" I yell.
"It wasn't me!"
They walk me down off the porch and to the police car, which they shove me into. Outside it starts to drizzle. I look down at my watch, 10:22. The weather channel was wrong.
To Be Continued...
