Run While You Can(Editing)

Chapter Two

•Chapter Two•

I laid on my bed, underneath a layer of soft blankets that has recently lost its softness due to continuos washing. Knock. I glanced over at my door that has been covered up from Big Bang Theory posters, and my mom carefully walks into my messy room with a tray. On top of the tray were two empty mugs, a hot kettle filled with hot coca and a bowl with peppermint marshmallows. Every time I was home from school, with a fever, my mom would make hot coca, and sprinkle bits of peppermint and peppermint marshmallows on top of it.She handed me a mug and poured some hot coca carefully into it. I grabbed a handful of marshmallows and placed them into my mug also. I held the mug up to my lips, where I could feel the warmth and it smelled like melted chocolate.

"Honey," she said as she placed the tray on top of my desk. "Your father." she paused again. Her eyes glistened, as if they were filled with tears. "He has been accused of murdering Mr. Anderson. They found him standing next to the body, with blood down his shirt."

Mr. Anderson. He was a pretty nice man. He was a doctor, had a wife and two kids, and lived in one of those lavish houses upstate. He sounds kinda stuck-up if you ask me.

I nod."But I don't understand. Why would anyone murder him?"

My mom just shrugged. "Well, we all do silly things." she said as she picked up the tray and walked down the stairs, into the sweet smelling kitchen.

I continued to lay in bed, holding my now cold mug. They only thought that occurred to me was why. Why would dad do something like this and I know he wasn't the nicest guy ever, but. I learned that the hard way after he smacked me across my face when I talked back to him. I choose not to talk to him anymore and I don't understand why my mom still stays with him. Every time he abuses me, she just stands there, like a frozen statue; too scared to do anything.

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Later that night, I decided to find some answers. After my mom went to bed, which was about midnight since she usually stays up to watch the television, which I think she watches too much, I sneaked downstairs. I held my flashlight in my hand.

"Scram!"I quietly hissed at Phoebe, my chubby tabby cat, who was a rather idiot. Phoebe hobbled across the wood floor.

I tip-toed into my dad's office, which he never used considering he was an accountant, and a rather bad one. The room was pretty odd shaped. There was a organized desk in the middle, facing the door that had a pretty old computer on it. Off to one side of the room was a filing cabinet and a chair to the other side of the desk. I walked over to the filing cabinet where I began to go throughout it, which took quite awhile.

When I finally found something interesting, it was a file on Mr. Anderson and three other people in town; Mr Rodgewell, and Miss Cathie Miller.

"That's strange." I muttered under my breath.

But the thing that really shocked me was that there was a file on me.

As I was looking at the files, I learned that they graduated with my father from WestRidge High School, the same high school I go to, and that Mr. Anderson, and Mr. Rodgewell were both dead. Mr. Rodgewell died about 2 years ago. The police said it was suicide, and I'm almost positive that dad had something to do with it, but why. There has to a connection to both murders, and if I don't figure it out now, he's coming after me next.

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I decided to head back up stairs, grabbing the files and covering my tracks. I tuck them under my mattress, knowing that my mom looks threw my room to make sure I'm not being a 'naughty' girl. She thinks I drink, which most girls at my school do, and my mom did at my age. But I don't unless you count peppermint hot coca. I finally decided to get some sleep, considering it was a Monday. I laid down in my small bed, and dragged the blankets on top of me again. Phoebe laid across my stomach, and I could feel her breathing softly, kicking in her sleep.