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.

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16. Deception

I rested my head on my knees. I'd pulled my feet up on the edge of the armchair and encircled them with my arms, holding myself together wrapped up tightly to keep away the evil circulating my mind.

When I'd woken up, Will was still asleep. For a moment, I just looked at him. His face was so much more softer in sleep, when his hardened eyes were hidden in sleep. I'd sneaked downstairs to sit in the living room to try and compose myself from last nights memory that had resurfaced.

I closed my eyes and forced myself to try and remember the face of the person. I'd read somewhere when I was alive that a persons murderer is usually someone they know, but all I could see was a blood red smile that held behind it an evil madness and insanity along with a prevailing blood lust.

I threw my head back against the back of the chair and stared up at the ceiling, taking deep long breaths, trying to contain my panic and fear. I felt sweat running down my back and squirmed in discomfort, dropping my legs to the floor.

Slowly, I felt my un-dead dead body calm down and felt tears gathering at the corners of my eyes. 

'Please, God, help me.' I whispered, my voice cracking slightly before I began sucking air in like a vacuum to calm myself all over again.

I felt hands grip my shoulders from behind me and begin massaging the tension from my back. I looked back and saw Will standing there, his white shirt unbuttoned at the top and his cold eyes back in place. I smiled softly at him.

'Hey... thanks for helping me Sergeant.' I said, allowing his skilled hands to soothe my muscles.

'Your case seems to be a lot more complex than I originally believed. I'm scrapping any more interviews with your friends. I want to focus on family, neighbours, teachers. I know you don't believe your family would be involved, but it makes me wonder why I was given incorrect information about your father. Your file said he owned a gas station, not that he was a coroner.' I sighed, his hands still softly massaging my shoulders.

'Probably because I was adopted. I'll take your word for it on my real father, never knew the guy. Laura and Graham Davids adopted me when I was six years old and as far as I'm concerned they're all the parents I need.' As I was speaking, his hands stopped moving and I could feel his confusion and anger radiating over my body.

'Why wasn't I informed of this? Why would they keep this from me? We are very thorough when it comes to my cases, why is it so different?' I could hear the frustration in his voice. I shrugged and shook my head, turning my body around to face him.

'Maybe they don't want you to know. My Dad always says that he's never told some important things sometimes because the higher ups don't feel he needs to know it. A lot of the time it's pretty important information too, something which would have helped solve a murder or something.' I saw surprise flit across his face before he sank into deep thought.

I narrowed my eyes as I stared up at him before disentangling myself from the chair.

'Come on. I'm hungry. We can call Mikey and get him to tell us what's up. I can bully him into anything.' I smiled and made my way across to the kitchen, Will trailing behind me.

'I just don't understand. They allocate me the odd or violent cases which they don't want the junior officers to handle, so why hide something from me? You might not think so but it's very important. I need more information about your Father. Something doesn't add up. I'll have to schedule an interview and try and get his alibi...' I spun around so fast he nearly walked right into me.

'Don't. Don't you dare involve my Dad in this. He could never do something like what happened to me. You haven't seen him after he's come back from awful cases where children have been murdered in far less terrible ways than I was. He doesn't have the stomach for it.' My voice was cold and quiet, and tears glistened in my eyes. Will raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms across his chest, looking down at me with his emotionless grey pebbles.

'Annabelle, he's a coroner. You can't say he doesn't have the "stomach" for death or murder. It's his job to have the stomach, he's paid to have the stomach; and the guts to cut a body open and find everything out about it's last moments among the living. I want to discount him from the investigation as much as you do, which is why he's having an interview.' I glared up at him, feeling my anger boiling up beneath my skin, my sleepiness and fear being shoved out of the forefront of my mind.

'No! You will not involve him at all! Or my Mum! You have no idea about my life before they adopted me. Neither one of them could hurt me like that, after what they knew I had dealt with before. So don't even consider them as suspects, or I'm done. You understand, Sergeant?' I sneered up at him before whirling away and striding upstairs, slamming my bedroom door and pacing the room to try and purge my anger.

I heard the front door open and slam shut, and felt my body sinking to the floor, exhausted and suddenly depressed, the emotions prior to my anger  resurfacing with an incredible and overwhelming vengeance.

Fear crippled me as the smile punched it's way into my head. I whimpered and curled up into a ball, trying to protect myself from the internal terror.

'Please... help me God.' I whispered, before my consciousness slipped away again.

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