Never Alone

I remember reading a newspaper article about a random pattern of break-ins in the Beverly hills area, that just suddenly stopped after the second one. I decided to create the story of the break-ins, but with a twist.

A young thrillseeker has a new way of getting her rush. She decides to break into some celebrities homes.
The first few are easy, until she gets caught by the owner of a huge mansion. If that wasn't scary enough, there's one tiny thing to take into account.
The owner died 3 years ago.

Now Diana has a big secret to hide, and a bigger secret to uncover. One that could leave her the same way as her ghostly friend.


2. Break-In

This feels like a really bad idea now, but it's too late. Thank god for the Cannes film festival, and The Karate Kid, or I'd be caught before I even got inside.

I'm sitting on the wall around the property, convincing myself to turn back before I get in trouble, yet encouraging myself to not be such a wimp and to get on with it.

"Will you stop holding back and get the hell on with it." The encouraging side of me says, surprised that I'm not doing as it says immediately, as I usually do.

"How long is the jail term for a 15 year old breaking and entering, again? Oh yeah, that's right, it's 5 years behind bars!" The demoralising side of me reminds me, sounding grateful that I'm listening to it for once.

"Both of you, SHUT UP!" I hiss, as my head starts feeling fuzzy from the arguement. I dig in my bag for my purse; I'll flip a nickel and decide that way. I place it on my primed thumb, and flip it in the air.

As I lean over and catch it on my palm, my bag falls off the wall, and my camera falls out. I'd brought it with me so I could prove that I had done it. Stacey would never believe me if I didn't have photographic proof. If I left it behind, then a security guard might find it, then track me down from the photos saved in it. I jump down and tuck into a weird 1-and-a-half-turn front roll, so I can get it back. As I stand up and brush off the grass and leaves that have stuck themselves to me, the encouraging side of me is very smug.

"Knew you would do it. I just KNEW you would. Now get your camera and have fun." It gloats, as I dust off my camera and shove it back in my bag. Turning towards the mansion, I wonder which room has the recording studio in it. Probably not the one with the small window open, which I find myself at before I know it. The encouraging side of me is chanting the words "Do It, Do It, Do It" over and over again, like how schoolkids chant "Fight, Fight, Fight" around two of them shoving eachother around. It didn't half encourage me. I was halfway through the window before I knew it.

The cold thunk of head-on-bath-taps-shaped-like-dolphins really hurt, but it helped me focus through the adrenaline-filled blur that I could see. I was clearly in the Smith family bathroom. It wasn't half big. And posh.

The ceramics were all pale pink, with rosy streaks in them. Like raspberry-ripple ice-cream. All the taps were golden, and either shaped like dolphins, or mermaids. Even the shower-head was golden. It seemed very girly though, and I bet Will and Jayden hated it. Willow or Jada must have designed it, I decided.

I pushed the door open very slowly, as it seemed, and was, very wrong for me to be there. Being very cautious, I went through into an extremely girly bedroom, with pale pink carpet, creamy white walls, and berry-bright quilted sheets. This was obviously Willow's room; the photos of her pinned to a cork board with her name on the walls in those alphabet block thingies kind of clued me in though.

I bet Stacey would be so jealous that I was in Willow Smith's bedroom; she loves her. Taking a step or two back, I hold up my camera and take a photo to show Stacey tomorrow. It looks really good, so I leave to take a look around another part of the house.

Downstairs, there's a very large open-plan living room, with large white sofa's and a ma-hoo-sive TV fixed to the wall. It isn't half nice. I would pay hundreds of thousands to spend a day here. Mind you, the TV itself probably cost that much alone. I perch on the edge of the sofa, as I prepare to take a snapshot. The flash dances over the walls as I slip on the white leather.

The TV kicks into life with a deafening roar of a football game; I must have landed on the remote. I go to turn it off, when I hear a voice from the kitchen.

"Jayden, is that you?" they ask.

Without even stopping to think, I bolt back upstairs and head for the bathroom again.

"Jayden, your mother said about leaving the volume up this high." The voice calls again.

By this time, I'm half-out of the window again and shaking so badly that I can barely get through. I certainly got my adrenaline rush; I can just focus on getting out. Eventually, I squeeze out and tumble down into a bush.

Though holly is extremely prickly, it is good at breaking falls. I scramble out, pricking myself a good one on the way, and jump at the wall on the back. My scrabbling fingers find a hand-hold and I haul myself up whilst scraping my shins on the way up.

Only when I'm on the other side of the wall, do I dare to stop and catch my breath. "OMIGOD! That. Was. Awesome!" I gasp, my voice hoarse from the rush. My legs are scraped a lot, and blood drips down my right one, but I don't care: that was too cool. I think I've found my new cliff-diving.

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