Murder

Part 1

Then I saw a face. A face that was shadowed. A girl's face. She stared through me. Then she mouthed a word. Help.

I recognised her. I was certain I knew her. Her short, hazel brown hair and her eyes. They were like oceans, filled with life and a dark blue. Beautiful... normally. Now her eyes were dead, she looked tired, no longer determined, frightened. 

It came to me how I knew her, we used to be best friends when we were younger. In fact we had played at this house before, in the grand gardens. Making up stories about kidnappings and murder, and sometimes about ghosts. I never thought one would come true. You see, we wrote them down, hoping that one day they would be good enough to publish. We had written one down about a girl, lured into a house and left there while it was being demolished. I kept them all in my drawer. 

But I lost that story a few days ago. 

I crept forward, cautious of making a sound. She was shaking with fear; I was shaking with fear. As I edged ever closer she slowly raised her arm and pointed a shivering finger towards a pin board at the back of the room. Pinned to the board was our story, slightly torn. Pinned next to that was her name. Next to her name, mine.

My eyes widened in fear, I considered screaming, hoping to be saved but I soon realised that nobody would save me, nobody was here. I opened my mouth to speak but she silenced me. Then she opened her mouth, forming the words (yet not making a sound),"Sorry, it's my dad." She pointed upwards, to the room above her, where there were sound of laughter and a chair scraping the floor.

We were like siblings, we were so close. We would laugh, relax and write together and read together. We used to promise each other that we would always stay this close. But one day, I was in the park waiting for her to show up. She had promised that she would. So I waited, for two hours. I was tired, so I left feeling betrayed, I had trusted her, she had promised me. I arrived at my house with a sullen look on my face. When I walked into the dining room I saw my mum and dad sitting there with a solemn look on their faces. 

My best friends mother had died mysteriously and unexpectedly. 

Murder.

From then on I rarely saw my friend. I was frightened to see her, terrified that I was going to be the next victim.

How right I was.