Teen Detective
- Reads 35
- Votes 1
- Parts 2
Ongoing10m
Last published Tue, Dec 1, 2015
I hear police sirens go off, ambulance and fire truck coming around the corner. Out of all the days today's the day the elevators weren't working. My sister (Jasmine) and I go rushing down the stairs. When we get to the lobby this girl was dead just lying down on the floor. As soon as I saw the body I recognized who that was. Everything from that point forward seemed very blurry. I don't remember things clearly. All I remember is seeing my friend get rapped up in a bag and placed on a gurney. There was a sharp pain in my chest, I couldn't stand to see my friend dead. I was wondering who did this to her, and I was going to find out because I'm a Teenage Detective.
Will the teenage Detective find out who killed this poor girl?
Will more people get killed?
Will we find out why the killer killed that girl?
If you want to find out all of these questions than keep on reading.
I update my stories every Sunday Afternoons.
I hope you enjoy!
All Rights Reserved
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The door opens and closes thirty times in five minutes, the table clutters endlessly. What's happening? Why am I being held by two officers in the corner of a counseling clinic? Is this an interrogation ground now? Shadows race past me, like mirages in a desert, faces flicker into view only to vanish the next second. The officers speak, but I can't hear them. My senses are failing me. Something inside me is taking control, and I might faint. If I wake up in a hospital, will this still be a nightmare, or something scripted? The city woke to devastation. The news spread like wildfire-Dr. Nadia, a champion for human rights, had been murdered in this very clinic. Yesterday, she voiced her fear for her life; no one listened. Now, she's gone. The press churned out articles minute by minute, TV channels broadcast live updates, and the internet roared with outrage. Police teams haven't slept. Top agents were deployed. That's how I met Inspectors Carla and Javed-while being held as both the prime suspect and the sole witness to this chaos. Dr. Nadia wasn't just a leader; she was a symbol of hope. She fought tirelessly for the oppressed, for justice, for rights the government ignored. Yet, she seemed to know her time was near. A week ago, she hinted at it but continued her fight. Yesterday, she paid the price-her life. Now, the city mourns her loss, consumed by guilt for ignoring her cries for help. The last time I saw Nadia, she was here, in this clinic. She didn't want to live. She seemed tired, desperate for respite. How does someone so adept at convincing others to hold on end up wanting to let go? Her death feels like a betrayal. She trusted us, and we failed her. I failed her. Now, it's on me to prove this was no accident-a cold-blooded murder. Or was it?
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