Finding My Killer


I venomously laugh as I read my tombstone. My name is Scarlett Miranda Rose, and I know
one thing for sure.

I didn't fall out of that window.

I was pushed.

*Cover created by: SAISXO


16. Chapter 16

"Scarlett," I distantly hear, but I don't know where the source is coming from. "Scarlett, wake up."

"Drew?" I think that's his voice, but I'm not sure.

"Yeah Scar, it's me." He gently says. "Go on, open your eyes."

Light engulfs my vision as I hesitantly open up my eyes. I find myself (surprisingly) back in the cemetery, with Drew's worried eyes searching mine.

Half expecting my hand to pass right through, I reach out and touch his arm. It doesn't, and I sigh of relief when he doesn't flinch away.

"Please don't hate me," I whisper.

"Never," He says, engulfing me in a hug. 

I tightly wrap my arms around him. "I'm sorry," I softly said. "I'm so sorry," 

"I'm not mad, Scar. I promise." He reassured me. 

I bury my head into his shoulder. "You have no idea how much I want to find this person, and move on from this life already," I mumble. "I really thought it was Tanya,"

"I know," He rubs my back for comfort. "I never should have gotten so close with her. I know you guys don't really have the best history together,"

I pull away from Drew and stand up, starting to walk around the paved trail that goes through the cemetery. "We used to be close friends, but high school started, and we had a falling out. . ." I say, trailing off. "Mayella got so jealous of my friendship with Tanya, and punched Tanya in the face when she called her a clingy bitch. I was forced to pick a side, and chose May-Day because I knew her since my very first day of kindergarten."

"You and Tanya never talked much after that incident, did you?" 

I shook my head. We passed Mr. Lively's grave, and rounded the corner.

"Is there anyone else, anyone at all that you can think of that would have motive to have you out of their lives?" He asks, running a hand through his hair.

I shake my head. "I don't know."

We silently round another corner, and soon enough I see my familiar headstone. But there's someone sitting in front of it.

I speed up and walk ahead of Drew. As I get closer to the women, I see that her graying brunette hair looks like it hasn't been brushed in ages, her skin is a sickly grey complexion, and she's rocking back and forth, mumbling to herself.

"Sh--she's a good girl." She stutters. "She w--wouldn't do this in a--a million years." 

I sit on the headstone in front of the women. She laughs hysterically. "Doc said she's sick! They don't--they don't know what she did!"
Drew walks up to the women, who has obvious mental health issues, and taps her on the shoulder.

The women whirls around and latches her hand onto Drew's wrist.

"A--Avery!" She snarls. "They think it's her!"
"Ma'am, please let go--"
"HAH! To Kill A Mockingbird was my favorite book! Everyone hated it in school!" She cackles.

"She's gone psycho. . ." I mumble. But. . .the pieces of the puzzle start to click together in my head.

"T--to Kill a Mo--Mockingbird!" The women screams. "Evil names, they say! Evil, evil names!"

I gasp, and I feel like I'm going to pass out from my sudden realization. "Drew," I whisper, with barely any noise coming from my lips.

His eyes lock onto mine, and the women is still babbling on and on about her book. The book is the key.

"To Kill A Mocking Bird!" She screeches.

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