Questions in the Dark

The Death

The moment I stepped through the door, I knew, somehow, that something was terribly wrong.

It wasn't the fact that the door was unlocked (Lauren was prone to locking all doors and windows at night) or the stingy, weird smell that teased my nose. It wasn't even the fact that the girl I once knew as a orphan was living in a expensive mansion and was the second richest girl in the U.S.

"Lauren?" I called out softly, not wanting to make myself known. There was no answer.

Reader, now I say that I should've turned back. I should've left instead of pushing myself further into the unknown home, but I continued on.

My heart pounded and my brain screamed, "Claire, turn back!" Reader, as I said before, I did not heed the warning. Of course, I didn't expect anything bad to happen. Nothing really bad happened to me anyway.

I admired the warm colors that completed the whole house as I neared the living room.

I looked forward, unlike I usually did where I focused on the past. I was a retired detective after all. An for a brief second, I glanced down.

I stopped, my heeled boots halting in their steps. That couldn't really be... could it?

I glanced down once more and sent myself flying back.

Reader, out of the many times I had seen the dead, this one topped it all.

I stared at the body, hypervalting, those empty blue eyes staring back at me. The pool of blood tormented me. An for many the nights that followed, I saw her over and over.

I reached for my phone a dialed the three digit number.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"Ma'am?"

"I think I just found a suicide." I breathed.