My specialty is observation. Before I met Tyler, my eyes were my best friends. I can spot habits and nervous twitches as if someone was lighting a bonfire and sending out smoke signals. I know that Melissa Booth always flicks her hair back when she's in a bad mood, I know Marcus Reece taps his foot in a fast rhythm when he fears the inevitable explanation of why he forgot his homework. I know everyone's mannerisms and personal rituals. None more so than my family's.
And Tyler's of course.
I was expecting the usual one at this moment. I was standing outside his house on a Saturday afternoon. Most girls on a Saturday would probably go out shopping or swap makeup and fashion tips with their friendship group. I would just come to Tyler's house, sit in the living room with him, and we'd both read a book. That was it really. We'd talk whilst doing so and have the TV turned on in the background, but besides from that we never did anything else. Nothing had stopped us from reading together on a Saturday (besides the snowstorm that happened last winter, but we agreed to pretend that never happened).
Today my choice was a newly published sci-fi novel called "Every". It had been a nice read so far. Not the best story in the world, but a nice read. I held the book to my chest as I reached up and rang the doorbell.
After I rang the doorbell (at precisely one o'clock in the afternoon) it would normally play out like this: Tyler would get up from relaxing on his bed, pick up his own book, walk out of his bedroom and close the door behind him, go down the stairs at a casual place, open the door, and say to me, "Oh, you're right on time!" Then he'd let me in, we'd ask each other how we were doing, then we'd go to the living room and get on with our reading. His mum would then come home about five to ten minutes later from her weekly shopping trip. She'd stick her head around the door and ask us if we wanted any refreshments. We'd both request the same: cookies and orange juice. Then she'd leave us alone. At half four, I'd just get up, say goodbye to Tyler whilst he'd stay and watch the TV, say goodbye to his mum as I went to the door, leave the house, and walked home.
That was a normal Saturday for us; any change was extremely rare. So as I rang the doorbell, I naturally didn't expect any change. I stood patiently and waited for Tyler to walk downstairs and opened the door...
...and waited...and waited...
...and nothing.
It didn't even strike my mind to ring the doorbell a second time. Ringing it once was enough to alert Tyler that I was here. But he never came down and opened the door. I didn't hear any movement inside. But he had to be in there. What else would he be doing on a Saturday? Nothing that I knew about, and he never kept anything from me. If he had changed his plans, he would find a way to tell me, no matter how complicated it was. There was one time when we arranged to meet after school to revise together, but he went home sick just after lunchtime, so he told another student to tell me that we had to cancel. The trouble was this boy didn't know who I was, so Tyler made the boy pass on the message to someone else to pass along, and long story short, the message was passed onto twelve people (including a teacher) before it got to me.
So after five minutes had passed, the feeling that something was not as it seemed began to appear. And with this feeling, I decided to ring the doorbell a second time, just in case of the small possibility that something had arisen which had caused him to miss the sound of the doorbell. But as I reached my hand up to press the button again, the noise of a car engine appeared close behind me. I turned my head and, sure enough, it was the light blue car which belonged to Tyler's mum; or as l liked to call her, "Mrs. Brooks".
Confused as to why I was still stood outside, she enquired as to why Tyler hadn't let me in as she carried her shopping bags towards the house.
"I don't know, Mrs. Brooks," was my reply, because I still couldn't think of a logical answer for why he hadn't opened the door.
"How odd," said Mrs. Brooks. "Ah well, maybe the little darling's fallen asleep by accident."
That was already one of the possibilities I had considered and dismissed. Tyler never fell asleep whilst he was relaxing. He'd always do something to keep himself awake, such as drumming his fingers on his legs, or whistling any song he could think of.
Mrs. Brooks unlocked the door and we stepped inside. She tried calling out to Tyler to inform him that I was here, but there was no responce.
"Oh dear me," Mrs. Brooks sighed. "Go and get him, would you, Quinn? He'll most likely still be in his room. I'll just put these bags in the kitchen."
So as she went to the kitchen, I went upstairs. I knew where Tyler's room was, despite the fact I'd only been in there once when I first visited the house. I'd never been in there again after Tyler's dad found out. Don't get me wrong, he loved Tyler a lot, but he was one of those parents who didn't want his son growing up too quickly if you know what I mean. So we were restricted to the living room. But I still knew where his room was; the room at the end on the right.
I went up the stairs, turned to the right, walked to his bedroom door and, so as not to breach his right of privacy, knocked on the door.
"Tyler?" I called out.
No responce.
Taking a deep breath, just in case there was the possibility that Tyler had chosen to take a shower and I was about to walk in whilst he was stark naked, I grabbed the door handle and opened the door.
And promptly froze.
There was a thump. I didn't look to see, but I knew it was my book which I had dropped on the floor. Mrs. Brooks must have heard it, because I heard her calling my name.
"Quinn? Quinn, is everything okay?"
No.
Nothing was okay.
Everything was wrong.
The room was almost exactly how I remembered it: blue walls, bed on the left, desk on the right, wardrobe and drawers on the far wall, chandelier on the ceiling.
The only difference had made everything wrong.
"Quinn, are you two okay? Is Tyler up there?" Mrs. Brooks continued to called as I heard her climb the stairs.
Tyler was here. Neither of us were okay however.
It's not everyday a human being manages to float above the ground. Tyler appeared to be doing so at this moment. I could have come up with the possibility that his recent wish upon a star or a coin tossed into a fountain had been to acquire the power of flight, but what was the point in that when this was certainly not the case?
The chandelier had something tied to it that was out of place. The possibility of it being a Christmas decoration was out of the window in a millisecond. The first reason being that it was Easter, not Christmas.
The second reason being that, the last time I checked, people don't normally associate plain rope to be a decent Christmas decoration. Unless perhaps you tied flags to it, but this was just a plain old rope.
It did however have something tied to the other end of it however. It was the reason why I had dropped my book. It was the reason why I found myself unable to answer Mrs. Brooks. She was walking up behind me now, still asking if we were okay.
Then she saw what I saw.
And she screamed.
And I still didn't move, nor take my eyes off what I was seeing.
I couldn't think of any possibilities to evade the sight we were quite clearly seeing.
The sight of Tyler's neck being the thing the rope was wrapped around.
YOU ARE READING
The Rope's Secret
Mystery / ThrillerTyler Brooks was dead. Suicide by hanging. There was no denying it. But no-one knows why he did it. With his parents in so much dismay, the only one left to figure out the mystery is Tyler's peculiar best friend. Quinn Hunter is known as the "oddbal...