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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I snuggled deeply into the soft, fluffy dressing gown the Sergeant had left on my bed while I was in the bath. For a moment, I felt myself blush, thinking of him in my room, but I quickly slapped myself back into reality.

To distract my hormonal dead teenage self, I pulled out a cute pyjama set Frankie had given me. It was a sleeveless grey top and short tartan shorts. I slipped the clothes on, closing my eyes as I smelled the new clothes smell, then decided to pull on a large, plain grey hoodie I'd grabbed as comfort clothing, ignoring Frankie's wrinkled up nose when I'd picked it out.

I skipped downstairs and strolled into the living room, smiling as I curled up on an armchair opposite the Sergeant, who sat ram-rod straight on the sofa across the coffee table. He was back in his business mode, and had even put his tie on.

'You really need to loosen up. This is your house, not the offices.' I said, glaring at his no-nonsense, emotionless face. He stared at me, not betraying a single feeling that fluttered in his mind like an aimless butterfly hiding in the winter just as spring was arriving.

He broke off from looking at me and pulled out two profiles, with the scum-bags and my ex-best-friends faces plastered on the front. I scowled at them as he spoke.

'We can eliminate these two as suspects, despite both of them having a strong motive for wanting you dead, neither of them have the guts to do it. Besides, they both have solid alibis. I think you can guess who corroborates each of their alibis.' I barked out a short laugh and curled my legs up on the chair, huddling them in the enormous hoodie before crossing my arms across my chest.

'Surprisingly, there aren't too many suspects, considering it was a teenage party. More of a friendly get together than a party. It honestly baffles me how the living cops believe that you were killed by a collapsed balcony.' He laughed incredulously as he looked down at a different piece of paper after dropping the douches and the skanks files on the floor, out of my sight.

'Luke's parents were really strict, so he didn't want the house to get too wrecked, so he only invited his closest friends. And the balcony? That was only installed a week or so ago after his Mum got jealous of the monstrosity my Mum had installed. She was warned it might not hold up because it was an add on to the house, and the way she had it designed was unstable. But she wanted a bigger one than my house had.' I shrugged my shoulders and smiled slightly. Sergeant frowned and shuffled through some more papers.

'That wasn't mentioned in the report.' He threw the papers down angrily, his eyes seeming to darken slightly.

'How can they be so complacent about this? This isn't at the correct level for the death of a minor. They usually pour all resources into an investigation till there is no other option but to turn to an accidental death. But you were murdered, or you wouldn't be here.'I stared at him, wide-eyed. He was really angry. I smiled, slightly diffusing his anger as his gaze focused on me.

'Don't worry about it. My Dad's the coroner, so there's no way the investigation wasn't thorough, so stop worrying about it.' He froze, staring into my eyes.

'Your Dad's the coroner?' I nodded, hugging myself tightly and grimacing at the thought of my Dad having to look at me after... eugh. I shivered and felt tears collecting in my eyes, but quickly swiped them away with my sleeve.

Sergeant was deep in thought, frowning as he paced the floor. I laughed slightly, trying to get rid of the tense atmosphere that was becoming more and more suffocating by the second.

'Hey, I thought you knew everything about me, you know, having my file and everything.' I laughed nervously as he stopped pacing and faced me.

'I wasn't informed of this. It was decided what information would be made available to me, but this is important! This could effect the whole investigation! I know you think it was conducted properly, but there evidently wasn't enough effort put into this-' I cut him off by standing up suddenly and speaking deathly quiet. When I was mad, instead of shouting, my voice dropped an octave and become quieter. Weird, I know, but it was more frightening than a short blonde girl screaming at you.

'How dare you. How do you think he felt having to diagnose his only daughter's death! God, grow a frigging heart Will. There might have been slip ups, maybe because they didn't want to break him any more than this already has.' I glared at him before striding out of the room and upstairs before slamming my bedroom door when I got in to my room.

I took a deep breath, trying to hold back the tears. I ran to my bed and threw myself into the soft duvet, cramming my face deep into a feathery pillow, screaming as I smacked the bed with my fist.

How dare he even think that my Dad could... I shuddered at the thought of it.

My murderer was cold... unfeeling... evil...

That malicious, bloody smile... I sat up, feeling the need to breath deeply as my chest felt as though it was constricting. I looked down at my hands and saw blood dripping from my fingertips.

I heard a small squeak emit from my throat, before my breaths became even heavier, turning into throaty gasps. I felt a scream rising up into my throat as the blood pouring down my wrists and over my hands became a rushing torrent.

I screamed. A loud, blood-curdling scream that wrenched through the air like a bolt of lightning and which was repeated over and over again as I stared down at my bloodied hands.

Suddenly, I felt arms around me, pulling me into a warm chest, but I carried on screaming, my eyes fixed on my hands, still dripping burgundy liquid from my pale grey skin.

'Ssh, Annie, it's okay. It's not real, okay? D'you hear me Annie? It's a nightmare, come on. Wake up. Come back to me. Ssh, ssh.' I felt my body trembling and tears dripped from my cheeks, sliding down my dry arms, but I didn't register this fact. My eyes saw blood everywhere.

'Blood... everywhere... so much blood... he's smiling... laughing... Oh my god he's drinking it...' I let out a strangled cry, before throwing myself into Sergeants arms, sobbing in abject terror.

I felt his arms tighten around me, and my shaking decreased slightly as I smelled his scent, and became aware of his strong arms encircled around my body.

'I swear, I'll get this psycho... personally.' I gulped as his voice sounded right in my ear, the anger at my murderer palpable in every nuance of sound and body language he gave off.

I nodded against his chest, my tears still falling down my cheeks. I glanced down, to see my hands were clean, the bloody hallucination gone... for now.

'Does that always happen?' I whispered, scared that I would break down randomly.

'No. Very rarely. Don't worry, I'll help you. I'm here for you.' I nodded.

'Thanks Will.' I whispered, clutching onto his shirt with my fingers as I snuggled into his embrace, breathing calming breaths as I slowly fell into a nap, exhausted from my waking nightmare.

In my half asleep state, I felt my body being laid down on the bed, and whimpered as I felt him leave the bed. I heard him groan as my hands clung to his shirt cuff, but sighed happily as I felt him relax next to me, before finally falling into a deep, dark sleep.

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