Natalie Peterson was a beautiful, intelligent and athletic teenager, but she hated high school for all of the right reasons. When she's bored, she smokes pot in the ghost area with her best friend Tamara Woods who's bullied by Gina, the hot popular...
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We were finally out of that street and heading to my house. I felt a stinging on my right eye. It was beginning to hurt bad. Patrick had punched me so hard that I had fallen on the floor. For a moment I thought that my eye had exploded, but after checking the front mirror of the passenger's seat, I realized that it was turning purple.
"Oh my God. That guy is insane. We have to call the police and tell them what happened," Tamara said. I nodded as I looked at myself in the mirror.
"Right. We have to tell them about the car and the refrigerator," I said.
"What did you see?" She asked me. It was so surreal. Had I really seen it. A chill went down my spine and I felt my heart sink. I didn't want to even utter it out loud.
"I... it was Mrs. Krasinski," I replied. I had said it. I had finally said it, but it felt so unreal.
"Mrs. Krasinski?" She asked me. I nodded.
"Natalie, but Mrs. Krasinski is dead," she said.
"It was her head," I whispered.
"What the hell?" Tamara said and stopped the car.
"He's a murderer and..." I couldn't say anything else.
"Stop the car," I said. Tamara pulled over and I took my seatbelt off and vomited on the street. Thinking about it just gave me the creeps.
"Are you sure?" Tamara asked me and I nodded.
"What are we going to say to the police though?" Tamara asked me.
"What do you mean, what are we going to say? The truth," I told her.
"But we did break in and think about it. We were in there, do you really think he's going to keep Mrs. Kransinski's-"
"Please don't say it," I told her shaking my head.
"Right. Umm, you know what I mean. I don't think he's going to keep that thing in there knowing that we saw it. He's going to dispose it," Tamara said.
"I think we should still call them to check the house out. I mean who knows what the hell else is in there," I said. I grabbed my cell phone and called. I had never been so nervous in my entire life. When the police replied I reported Patrick and everything I saw. They said that calling for pranks would get me in a lot of trouble. I told them that this was no prank. They asked me for the car's license plate and for Patrick's address. I told them everything. I reached home and mom was gone. She was already in the office. I bathed before doing my homework. Then I did my homework. There was meatloaf in the oven, but I had lost my apetite for obvious reasons. The image of her head reappeared in my memory. I wanted to cry. I pet my fish and dog and then watched some TV. Hours later, the police was in my house.
"Are you Natalie Peterson," the officer asked me.
"Yes," I replied.
"Are your parents home or?"
"My mom went out for a moment," I lied. The police officer took a short glance inside of my house. I tried to stay calm.
"Is this about the stolen car case?" I asked him.
"Yes. Please come with me," he said.
"Why?"
"We just need you to identify the suspect for us. We found him," the police officer said.
"Okay, give me a moment," I said. I grabbed my jacket and put on my sneakers. Then, I opened the door and walked into the patrol car. The police officer opened the back door for me.
"Isn't the back door for people who get arrested?" I asked him, since that's what I usually saw in the movies.
"It's more comfortable in the back. Besides, there's hardly any incidents," the police officer said. I thought it was weird, but nodded and sat on the back. As he took me to the police station, he talked to me.
"So, you said you saw someone's head in a refrigerator. Is that true?" He asked me. I nodded. I couldn't talk about it.
"Must have been terrible to see something like that. Awful," the police officer said.
"Yeah, it was," I nodded. Then I noticed that he passed by the police station.
"Hey, aren't we going to the station?" I asked him. He shook his head.
"Who said anything about going into the station sweetie? We're not going to the station," he replied. My heart pounded hard. What the hell was this?
"You said we were going to identify the suspect," I replied.
"I know and that's exactly what you're going to do," He said.
"What's going on here?" I asked him.
"This is what's going on dear. You're going to identify and tell me everything you know about our werewolf," he said.
"Werewolf? Who the hell is talking about a werewolf? I'm talking about Patrick," I said.
"Patrick, yes. So that's his name. Now I got a name, that's great," he said.
"Who are you?" I asked him. The traffic light turned red and he tilted and looked at me for a moment. He was briefly introducing himself.
"I'm a werewolf hunter and you're going to tell me everything you know."
