watch your back (cameron dallas)

1

My ears are filled with the deafening sound of police and ambulance sirens howling down my street. I furrow my eyebrows as I contemplate what in the world could be going on in my small, quiet street? I race upstairs to my bedroom window in attempt to get a better look at what's happening a few houses down. Granted, I have a clear enough view to decipher something has happened; something serious.

There's a large crowd surrounding the taped off area, from my bedroom window I can make out the horrified expressions covering half of the crowd's faces - the other half look terrified.

I gulp as I reach over to my wardrobe and grab a random jacket, shrugging it on before slipping on whatever shoes are the closest.

A pair of thongs... classy.

I let my mind travel off my embarrassing thongs and rather to the situation happening a few doors down. I race down the stairs quickly and rush out the door, ensuring to shut it behind me. I then walk as fast as what would be considered speed walking, over to the large crowd surrounding the police tape. Practically half the neighbourhood is gathered in the small front yard.

"Mrs Adams!" I call as I spot her grey hair through the crowd. I rush over to her, murmuring a few sorry and excuse me's as I push through the crowd.

"Rosetta, dear," Mrs Adams sympathetically greets as she wraps her comforting arms around me. I hold the embrace for the shortest of moments which would be considered polite, before my curiosity gets the best of me.

"What in the world is going on?" I enquire desperately as I look at my surroundings.

Instead of giving me a much needed explanation, Mrs Adam's takes my hand and guides me to the front of the crowd, all the way to the police tape.

"I'm so sorry, Rosetta. I knew you two were good friends." Mrs Adams sympathises as she looks at the scene before us.

I furrow my eyebrows and look over the police tape. My eyes turn to the size of coins when I see the body bag being zipped up by the paramedics.

My heart starts thumping out of my chest as I stand on my toes in need to see the face of the victim. Just as the zip is nearing the victims face, I get a clear enough look to make me nearly gag.

"Ivy?" I choke, more as a question. I don't believe what I'm seeing.

"God bless her." Mrs Adams murmurs, "I'm so sorry, dear." She repeats.

As realisation hits me my stomach churns in grief. Suddenly I can't hear the sirens or the gasping crowd, all I can hear is my blood pounding in my ears. All the energy is drained from my body along with my will to stand, it's all too much to handle. I collapse to my knees in complete emotional agony, grasping at the grass and dirt as if it's the only thing I can do. I let out a whimper of internal hurt, and the fresh tears making their way down my face go unnoticed. I cry out loud, not giving a second thought to my dramatic scene.

My best friend is dead.

Mrs Adams attempts to comfort me and grabs my forearm to help me up. I take it for granted as I lean my body weight on the poor fragile old lady, though she doesn't seem to mind.

As I realise where I am I begin to wonder why Ivy's body was found at Mr Jones house - my humanities and science teacher. I shrug off the unimportant thought as the salty tears continue to mark my face.

Within the paramedics and police a white envelope stands out, neatly placed on the ground near a small shrub. I want to yell and scream at the police, that could be a vital bit of evidence sitting right in front of their noses and they are yet to notice it. Knowing that the letter will most probably sit there for the next ten years if I don't do something about it, I life the police tape and walk under - quickly making my way to the envelope before anyone can stop me. I make a promise to myself in that moment that I will do anything to help solve whatever happened to Ivy.

It's obvious the envelope hasn't been discovered as there is a foolish red heart sticker keeping it shut. Strangely, the letter isn't addressed at all, so I take that as an excuse to open it.

I rip it open and despite all that's going on, I still manage to be instantly intrigued when I find a small note inside with beautiful cursive writing, and read it immediately.

1 down, the rest of the neighbourhood to go. Watch your back. - C