Becky's Doll

Chapter 19

THE METAL HANDCUFFS FELT extremely chilly and piercingly cold against my clammy skin. Staring blankly into Owen's calculating eyes, I suppressed my urge to break out and cry. My throat was dry and throbbed with my unshed tears. I was being labelled as a cold blooded murderer. And I was entirely clueless of what to do.

Becky peeked into the room from behind Owen's chair,a devilish smirk plastered into her features. An evil raucous laugh like a hollow breath resounded in my brain. I bit my lip until I tasted iron.

"Why did you kill Miss Graham?" Wilhelm Owen asked.

"I did not kill her," I repeated for the hundredth time.

"So why was the knife under your bed?" He questioned curtly.

"That's what I have been telling you. I don't know," I said agitatedly. He leaned towards me and the chair made a slight displeasing sound due to the shift in his posture.

"I think it's better if you stop being a huge pain in the ass and own up. It's better for all of us and I might even try to lighten your punishment," He said, smirking at me. Red flashed in front of my eyes. I burst out in fury.

"Yeah, you are right, Mr Owen. I killed Esther Graham, my sister's best friend. Do you know why?" I snarled. "Because she was so infuriatingly quiet and peaceful and helped me make dinner. So, I thought I should take the kitchen knife and end her life. And hide the bloody knife under my bed, so it would be an easier job for the detectives to find it and lock me up," I replied sarcastically.

"Allison!" He warned.

"If I was the killer, I would never hide the knife under my bed," I reasoned. Mr Owen frowned. The phone rang breaking the tensed silence. He fumbled inside his pocket and took out the ringing phone. Pressing it lightly to his ear, he left the room.

I didn't know which room I was in except that I was somewhere in the police headquarters. The room was dimly lit and Dad, Becky and Scarlett were waiting outside. The metal clamps were tight against my skin and I yearned to be free from this bound. I was in a big mess.

"Allison. You can go," Owen said as he returned to his seat.

"Remove her handcuffs," He instructed the other officers. I looked up at him quizzically.

"There are no fingerprints on the knife except Becky's who brought the knife to us from the bed. The killer must have wiped it clear before placing it. But at the time of her death, you were in the kitchen. The cameras in the kitchen is proof to that," He said. I sighed in relief.

"There were cameras in the kitchen?"I asked in disbelief.

"Yes. And Allison, we found a clipping. I think you can clarify that," He said. An officer brought a sleek black laptop in front of us. I stared into the illuminated screen. The air left my lungs.

The video showed a very violent Jack leaning down on my neck with my soft skin between his teeth. My back was pressed against the kitchen countertop. I was shivering and crying in the video. Mr Owen suddenly stared enquiringly at me. I just wanted to run away from this place.

"So, Allison. Why didn't you tell us about his violent nature?" He asked, rather impatiently.

"Um," I stuttered not knowing what to say." Scarlett did tell you about that. She kept on telling you that."

"Call Jack! We need to interview him," Mr Owen ordered the officers.

"You can go for now. But we might call you again," He said. I looked down at my hands, the rim of my wrists had turned red and the skin has been scraped off. Without a final glance, I fled from the place.

**************

"You should eat something," I persuaded. Scarlett sat adamant on a chair, looking more horrible than a ghost. Red rimmed her tired worn out eyes.

"No," She muttered angrily, folding her arms under her chest.

"Scar, if you don't eat. You will feel tired," I told her. She ignored me. Letting out a frustrated breath, I left the guest room where Scarlett slept nowadays. There were two rooms in our house that had been locked away, Becky's and now Scarlett's. I tried insinuating dad into shifting houses but unfortunately it didn't work out.

I walked into the kitchen and abruptly halted on seeing a flash of bright yellow moving around. Hailey had come back. Dad was seated on one of the chairs, sipping coffee. I moved into the room, trying to ignore her presence.

"Your mom and I want to know what's going around? And we know that you are perfectly aware," Dad spoke. I turned to face him but the newspaper that was carelessly thrown on the table perked my interest. The photo under the headlines of the newspaper was poor dead Esther looking solemn. I picked it up feeling sad.

"Dad, I did tell you. We are being haunted. That was why Becky acts so..." I trailed as my eyes scrolled over the lines about Esther's death in the newspaper.

"No! Allison, do you think we believe that nonsense? You are almost eighteen. We thought you are responsible," He said. Here it goes again, I thought as I blocked out his lamentation. My eyes continued to read the cheap promises the officers had offered to no one in particular in finding the murderer of Esther as soon as possible.

"Dad! I know it's unbelievable. But trust me, that is what is going on. Did you take a look at Becky's room? Is any..." I suddenly stopped as my eyes suddenly caught a small box in the left bottom of the newspaper. I began reading. The doorbell rang and I saw Hailey moving to get the door.

Young criminal, Elizabeth Monner, aged 23, found dead in the prison cell. The sources say it was murder. Brutal slashes were found all over the victim's body. Police are in chaos as the security system around the prison is extremely tight. She had been arrested for the murder of the middle aged widow, Jill Garner. Horse breeder Jerome Monner is grieving over the death of his daughter.

I gasped. The newspaper slipped from my hands to the floor. Standing at the door and watching me was the charred black figure, except that it was slowly morphing into a hideous solid burnt figure.

"Allison!" Hailey called, breaking me from my daze. I turned to her and she looked concerned. Her eyes had been crinkled at the corners and she looked as if she wanted to say something.

"Police are at the door. They want to meet you," She said slowly, lowering her gaze. I left the kitchen and moved to the door, expecting the worst. Owen looked up at me with a different glint in his eyes.

"Allison, you have a long explanation to do. The police at the prison say that you are the last person to meet Elizabeth Monner," He said, sternly.

My hands shook violently. Behind the police stood the ghost with it's burnt blackened thin lips pulled into an evil grin.

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