Confessions of a Teenage Murder Victim

"Hi. My name is Annabelle Marie Davids. I'm 17 years old, born October 12th 1995, died January 18th 2013. Well, to be brutally honest, I was murdered." Annabelle was your average teenage girl. She had it all; the boyfriend, the parties, the looks and the popularity. Her parents even had the money. Her life was perfect. So why was she killed? With the help of ALIS, the After Life Investigative Squad, Annabelle slowly discovers the bitter and twisted hatred which led to one of her "friends" to murder her.


14. Bonding?

I tentatively knocked on the dark wooden door, fidgeting as I waited for Sergeant to call me in. I knocked again, louder this time, and when he still didn't answer, I slowly opened the door.

'Hello?' I called out, stepping onto a plush creamy carpet, and looking at the contents of the large room. The bed was a simple king size bed with dark blue bedsheets and pillows, and the walls were a creamy colour. There was a wardrobe, a chest of drawers and a small coffee table which had two comfortable armchairs positioned around it. I noticed a collection of papers spread across the coffee table and closed the bedroom door before walking across and poking at the papers, not able to understand the gibberish writing, but recognising the mugshots of people I had known in life.

It had become surprisingly easy to refer to myself as dead recently. Maybe I was getting used to this life as a ghosty thing in some sort of limbo land? I laughed at myself.

'Yeah, right.' I whispered, closing my eyes for a moment and breathing in deeply. The room smelled like the Sergeant, of some sort of cologne with a woodsy flavour to it. 

Suddenly, a door behind me opened and I turned around to see the Sergeant walking out of an en-suit bathroom, his dark hair dripping water and a white towel was wrapped around his hips. He froze and his mouth opened slightly as we blinked at each other. My eyes ran down his muscled chest, taking in the scars marring his skin, before my face went bright red and I whirled around.

'Oh my God! I am so sorry! I- I- I called out but you didn't... so I...' I stuttered like this whenever I was nervous, a horrible habit that I had developed years ago. I shut my eyes tightly and ran across to the door.

'I'll leave you alone for a bit!' I called out, slamming the door behind me and ignoring him calling my name as I quickly shut myself back in my own room.

I leant with my back against the door, breathing heavily and my eyes wide open. 

'Wow.' I whispered, the sight of the Sergeants bare chest still imprinted in my mind.I closed my eyes and slowly lowered myself to the floor, crossing my arms and resting my head on them, taking deep cleansing breaths. 

'Don't even think about it Annabelle Davies.' I whispered to myself, clenching my fists tightly and shaking my head. There was no way I was going to try and get involved with Sergeant like that. Nope. Nope. No way. He was my case investigator, and far too serious for me, plus his eyes make me feel as though he's looking right into my soul and judging it... but damn the guy had a great body.

I flopped my head back, smacking it on the door as I bit my lip and stared up at the ceiling. I laughed lightly, wondering how even after all of the things that had happened to me within a matter of days, I was contemplating an dead relationship, only just after finding out my long term jerk of a living boyfriend had been cheating on me with my living best friend.

Maybe I was developing a complex about this life and death thing? Weird Annie, just weird. I thought to myself, forcing myself to stand up. I opened my door and poked my head out, relieved to see that the Sergeant hadn't come out after me. Hopefully, he was getting dressed...

I shook my head and stepped out of the room, softly shutting the door and creeping bare foot down the marble staircase. I looked around, and opened a door, and found myself in a large and totally spotless kitchen, which held some of the most modern appliances I had seen. I smiled and walked in, letting the door close behind me.

'Time for a different kind of therapy.' I said, pulling my phone out of my pocket and sticking it in a speaker dock as I played one of my favourite albums.

It took me less than a minute to get together all of the the things I needed, and begun my own personal brand of secondary therapy.



My body moved by itself as Cady Groves's song, "This Little Girl" blared out of the speakers. I sang along as I stirred up the brownie mix, giving it the final mix before pouring it into a tray and shoving it in the oven after pulling out the roast chicken and potatoes. 

I groaned as I licked the chocolate covered spoon and started dancing again as the song came to it's ultimate chorus. Suddenly the music was stopped and I blinked before turning around and seeing Sergeant standing by the speakers staring at me. I smiled and shrugged before offering him the bowl with the leftover chocolate mix in it. 

He frowned, but walked forward to take the bowl. He scooped up a lump of chocolate on to his finger and stuck it in his mouth, blinking in surprise. I raised an eyebrow.

'I can cook you know, so there's no need to act all surprised like that.' I winked at him as I turned and dropped the dirty spoon in the sink and grabbed a clean one to begin dishing out the meal on some plain china plates.

'It's unusual from a girl of your background. Sorry if I offended you.' He said, placing the bowl back on the unit and walking across to help me dish up by holding the plate.

'A "girl from my background?" Hmph. Just cause my parents are loaded doesn't mean I rely on them and their money all the time, contrary to popular opinion.' I felt my tone get more and more angry as I spoke, and I jabbed roughly at a potato which stubbornly stuck to the bottom of the glass dish. I yelped in pain as my hand slipped from the protection of the dish cloth and ran along the hot glass. I pulled my fingers close to my chest and squealed as I clutched my hand, swearing under my breath.

Sergeant dragged me across to the sink and shoved my hand under a stream of cold water. I winced, before sighing softly and laughing slightly under my breath.

'Sorry. Might be a good cook, but really clumsy and quick-tempered.' I watched my skin turn bright red where I had touched the dish and groaned internally at the thought of the pain later when I inevitably bashed it against something.

'No, I shouldn't have made assumptions about you based on the women from my era. Frankie's always telling me that the world's moved on and women are more independent and outspoken.' I turned to stare into his face, seeing that he was stuck in a memory of when he was alive.

'What era did you live in?' I asked, curious about his past.

'I was born in 1865.' He muttered, his face going slightly pink as I laughed slightly.

'Honey, you don't look a day over 20!' I said, winking and smiling at him.

'That's because I died when I was 19.' He said, not understanding my humour, which made me laugh even more. He frowned and stared at me until I stopped laughing, and was locked in his icy clear gaze. My eyes widened and I yanked my eyes away, carefully pulling my now numb hand out from under the freezing cold water.

'I'll go sort this out, do you want to carry on dishing up dinner?' I said, not meeting his eyes as I escaped from the kitchen to my bedroom and own en-suite, thankful to find medical supplies in the cupboard.

'You need to stop this Annie, you'll end up regretting it.' I told myself as I applied a burn plaster to my hand. After putting away the medical supplies in the bathroom cupboard, I walked back downstairs to the kitchen and found the brownies finished and left to cool on the side unit, and the fully served roast dinners on steaming plates on the kitchen table.

'How's your hand?' Sergeant asked. I looked up to see he was holding on to some knives and forks before he gestured towards the meal.

I smiled at him and waved my fixed up hand, then walked over to sit at the table, thanking him as he gave me the cutlery.

For a while, we sat in silence which was only permeated by the scraping of our cutlery on the plates. We had nearly finished the meal when Sergeant finally spoke.

'Thank you, for the meal. I don't really get the time to cook for myself, so this was nice.' I smiled at his serious tone.

'No problem. I did it as much for me as for you. Needed a distraction if I'm honest. All this investigation stuff just gets... overwhelming.' Sergeant nodded understandingly and smiled slightly at me. Though it was a small smile, it changed his whole face. His light eyes seemed to sparkle with humour and his face became so much more relaxed. I smiled warmly at him.

'You should do that more often.' I told him. He started with surprise and confusion, frowning.

'Excuse me?' He asked. I shook my head, still smiling.

'Smile. You should do it more often. It's good for you.' I winked as I grabbed his empty plate and took both dirty dishes to the sink, slipping them into the warm water.

'I'll do the washing up. You cooked, I wash. Go have a shower or something. I'll be in the living room to talk about the investigation with you.' I could feel his walls being slammed back up, and didn't need to look at him to know his eyes had lost the glint of humour he'd shown me.

I sighed quietly to myself, before drying my hands and smiling my thanks, walking out of the kitchen to wallow in a hot bath, which was sounding more and more tempting as I thought about the long soak in scented water, before having to go through the arduous conversation about my murder suspects.

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