Framed (no longer being continued)

Shadows cast over Elle's slim body. She was lined in crimson folds, twisting up and down her body in a satisfying design. She traces the length of the dress, the vivid color summoning recounts of that night, making her skin crawl, and the hair on the back of her neck rise. She was overcome with the feeling of a person behind her. Like a ghost was watching her every move. She shudders, as she recalls the excruciating night. Pop music boomed through the floorboards, as she was lost in a sea of 19-year-olds. She was lost in the cheering of the crowd, unable to wipe the smile from her face. They cheered as the music stopped for a short announcement. Her head was dizzy from the alcohol, and she couldn't hear or see clearly. The last thing she heard was the screams as the man beside her dropped dead. Shock overwhelmed her, and she looked down to her hand, suddenly warm. Smeared with blood. Her hand trembled as she lifted it up, drops sliding down, and hitting the floor. She gripped the broken glass tightly. She had killed Alec Harvard. Or so everyone believed.

(Cover photo by Maria Fernanda Fotografia - Pexels)