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.


5. Michael

I stared up into the familiar face in shock. He took a step back, his face deathly pale. His dark brown hair flopped across his forehead, his dark blue eyes still looked deeper than the ocean and his skin was lightly tanned.

'Oh my God! Anna!' He whispered with sympathy and sadness. I looked away, feeling the tears begin to slip down my face. Suddenly, I was wrapped in his arms. He even smelled the same. I opened my eyes, and let out a squeak, shoving away from him, my eyes wide.

'What the hell Mikey!?!' I shouted, staring at the pure white feathery wings that protruded from his back.

'It's a long story Anna.' He mumbled, smiling gently, offering me a hand to pull me up. Hesitantly, I reached forwards and fell back into his warm hug. Like so many times before, when he was alive, I cried into his shoulder, my body shaking with harsh sobs.

'I'm sorry Anna. I... really wish we didn't have to meet again like this.' He whispered, stroking my hair. I didn't care that he was flattening the curls I'd worked on for hours to perfect for the party. I was with Mikey again.

Michael Cross had been my best friend since before we could walk. We'd lived next door to each other for as long as I could remember, despite him being a year or two older than me; he was like an older brother, we were inseparable. That was until a year or so ago, when he was killed by a drunk driver the night he got his University acceptance letter; he was going to go Oxford to study Law. Instead, he was left for dead on the pavement when he went to buy some groceries for a celebratory dinner with his parents.

I cried for days. I'd been told that it was only psychologically possible to grieve for 45 minutes, maximum. That's a lie as far as I'm concerned.

'They say I was killed Mikey! By my friends! I know they didn't, I just know it!' I said, staring up into his saddened eyes.

'I'm sorry Anna.' He whispered, hugging me to him again.

'He won't let me go on the interviews with him, and said he won't investigate it if I try and come along.' I hiccuped, slowly calming down.

'What? Who said that?' Michael asked, gently pushing me back to stare into my reddened eyes. He look angry. I'd only ever seen Michael angry when some boys started talking dirt to me. 

'That Sergeant guy. I want to go on the interviews and he said no.' I wiped my cheeks on the back of my hand, then Michael pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. I thanked him and blew my nose, wiping my eyes properly with the silky soft cotton material.

'That's not right.' He muttered in anger, his eyes seeming to flame, and his wings shifted about with a soft swish of agitation. 

'What?' I asked, confused. 

'Souls are allowed to accompany their case leader if they request it; it's closure for them and sometimes has helped solve the case.' My mouth dropped open in shock and fresh tears slid down my face.

'He... made it sound like I wasn't allowed.' I whispered, shocked. Michael was shaking in anger, and his wings flapped occasionally, refusing to stay still.

'Don't worry Anna. I'll sort this out. He picked me up in his arms and shrouded me in his wings, hiding my tear stained face from view, before kicking open the door, and storming angrily through the offices. I heard a silence fall over the entire room when we stepped inside, and heard peoples whispering and scrambling out of Michaels way.

Another door crashed open, and slammed shut. I was lowered to the floor, released from the enclosure of the feathers, and shivered as Sergeant Anderson's cold emotionless eyes rested on me, before staring up at Michael questioningly.

'What can I do for you Michael?' He asked, calmly putting down a folder he was flicking through.

'I want you to tell me why you lied to your soul.' Michael asked, his voice filled with anger, and his wings lifting out to their full extent. They made the room seem a lot smaller, and blocked my view of the Sergeant.

'I did not lie to Miss Davids. I told her I refused to take her on the interviews. I believe I have the right to refuse, as she has the right to ask.'

'Why? Her input would be valuable in this case!' Michael said, his voice raising.

'It is clear to me what happened. One of her drunk friends pushed her off of the balcony, and she died. I do not understand why this case was referred to me. It should be given to a new investigator-'

'DO YOU DARE QUESTION GABRIEL'S JUDGEMENT IN THIS?' Michael shouted, his face flushed red and his wings flapping agitatedly in the cramped space. Folders and papers flew from the desk in disarray, yet the Sergeant just sat there, his face just as emotionless as ever.

'Of course not Michael. That's suicidal. I just want to know why Gabriel referred this case to me-'

'It wasn't Gabriel, Anderson. He just approved it for propriety's sake. You know who sent this one to you. I know you hate bringing them with you, but you have no say in this case. She goes with you, not on my orders, not on Gabriel's. These are from higher up. Deal with it.' The little colour in the Sergeants face seemed to drain, but his eyes remained emotionless.

He sighed and nodded, rubbing his temples. Michaels wings relaxed, and he stood down.

'I'll show her to her quarters. I expect you to organise the visiting paperwork for the interviewing process.' Michael turned and took me by the hand. He led me out of the room. I felt the burning stares of everyone in the larger room staring at me all over again.

I looked back to see the Sergeant shutting his office door staring down at the floor. I could swear, right then, I saw an unbearable, and unimaginable sadness in his eyes, as though his whole world had fallen apart and lay in shattered pieces at his feet.

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