Hey! This is my entry for the Who framed Klaris Cliff? Competition, it's the first real story I wrote so I hope you enjoy it ! :)


1. One

The feeling of being wrong is like the feeling of being crazy You fear the outcome as you know your whole life can change on one person's opinion.

             Most of my thinking happens in my bedroom. Me, wrapped in a worn out, ragged piece of cloth while sitting on a silken sheeted bed. It's not the place to have such deep thoughts roaming my brain, but, my best evaluations happened in that room, especially with my best friend Galen.

         The best part of being in my room with Galen is that my parents don't even know he's there, the mansions too big with Mrs Fox on one side, phone glued to her ear, while Mr Fox lazily types documents on the other, sipping secretly out of a"coffee" mug.

         "Come on Coby," Galen's eyes widened, pupils dilating at the very thought of his idea. "It'll be fun."  Those three little words make me shudder. It'll. Be. Fun. That's what Galen said the last time we tried a cigarette, accidentally forgetting that sparks cause fire, metaphorically speaking, of course. Anyway enough is enough. My answers is scorched in my brain. "Not today, Gal."

         I looked at his porcelain face and slightly golden eyes. I've always been transfixed by his face, like I'm looking in the mirror at my very soul. Was I kidding? I was trying to convince myself that I was. Galen blew a stand of honey coloured hair out of his face and sighed, "it won't be like last time, Cobe, this will be deadly serious." I stared at his face, I couldn't help being hypnotized into going so I said, " As long as nothing bad happens." I looked to the floor as I dragged a hand through my jet-black hair. As I awaited  a response, I could feel his piercing grin burn into my back as I heard him say, "there'll be no trouble, no trouble at all."

        Getting out of the house was easy. A Swedish voice shouted, "Var inte galen!" It must have been Glorya on the phone.

"Are you sure about this Galen?" I asked meekly. I looked at the bare corridor as I spoke. My parents didn't care where I was and Glorya, our Swedish au pair,  just looked at me funny, but stood motionless. I sighed, I could to what I want when I want,

but no one really cares. Galen was getting giddy, jittering nervously and waving his tough hands excitedly, and Glorya continued her conversation into a phone, more quietly than before.

         "Where are we going again, Gal?" I already knew, I just wanted to break the loneliness of the quiet we were experiencing. "Number 13, Scar Lane." I froze. Number 13 is the creaky old warehouse in the middle of Sweeton, where many young men were murdered. Written on the walls in blood was the same message over and over, "Never trust yourself." Frankly, it freaked me out,  but I would never tel Galen that.

         Down the darkened alleyway, the sun was setting, the orange light trembled, the pinkish clouds adding to its beauty.  A single crow cawed, the sound a lone star against an empty sky.

         As we were heading through the town, my mind replayed our last encounter with the street.

" Be glad Cobe, this is the finest in all of Sweeton! Galen exclaimed followed by a stuttered coughing attack.

i drawled on the rolled up paper, covering the cough that wanted to get rid of the burning smoke damaging my lungs. "Its quite something," I replied, helplessly. My head was spinning like a rollercoaster, the words " Your next, your next," replaying and replaying constantly. The suffocating ashes were killing me. 

      A sturdy, big hand placed a hand on my shoulder, I looked around. Galen was nowhere to be seen. "Cobrias Fox?" A gruff voice said, "Is that you? Why are you here alone?"

"Im with Galen," I said just in time to see a cop, before inky darkness climbed into the edges of my vision.


I shivered at the thought. I ended up in the police station while Galen hid in the street. No one believed that Galen was with me. When they let me go, Galen came up to me saying. " You haven't ratted me out, eh Cobe?"


Number 13 stood, shattered. The rotting wood door was creaking as the strong wind forced it to move. "Let's begin." Galen said. I closed my eyes, the cold comforted me, the pale moonlight shone through my eyelids, urging me, whispering, "Go, Go."

      My vision told me that Galen already inside.  "Come on, Cobrias, don't be scared!"

He knew I hated my name, and I knew he only said when he was forcing me to follow.

        Heading into the corridor, my head whirled in my brain, water was pattering down a wall. The constant dripping against the hard floor was like a heartbeat. A scream brought me back to reality. Galen was nowhere to be seen.

        The darkness laughed at me through my blindness, running was never my forte. My vision so useless it made me stumble into a hard, wet lump. I reached down, the liquid absorbing into my skin. The rusty smell told me it was blood. A faint dripping noise played in the background. Nausea awoke in my stomach. A killer was here, and I was all alone.

         "Galen?" My voice cracked, undisguising my faint terror. No voice came back. I never heard silence this loud. My ears were ringing but I could make out vague paces getting louder. Heading towards me.

         My palms were sweating and the voice was deafening in my head. My pulse was sprinting, and my blood was fizzing with fright. "Hide, Coby," my thoughts screamed at me. Leaving Galen behind, I ran.

      The room was the picture of a cell. The night crept in through the damp walls. Water dripped from the ceiling onto my forehead. My shallow breaths were controlled while my ears strained for a snippet of sound. I pulled my legs to my chin, rocking back and forth, praying for Gale, praying for anyone to save me. My conscience comforting me, saying, "Do it, do it." Suddenly thunder burst through the door. A tall, faceless figure stood at the entrance, carrying a baseball bat and a small box, the shadows masking his identity. My voice was trapped by my utter surprise. There, a few feet away, was Galen. His expression in the dim light was like a statues. "I don't have much time, I'm sorry for everything Cobe." And from the look on his face, I knew he meant it. The last thing I saw was Galen raising a bat, heading towards me, and in that time I closed my eyes, treasuring my last few moments of sanity.

            Sirens shouted in the distance, my mind was foggy. Galen was long gone. All was left was me. Me and a body. A few seconds later policemen barged into my room, guns pointed in the air.  One of them shouted, "Freeze!"

  Like Im going anywhere.

         The rest was a blur, the ride to the station was minutes. The faux leather seats were filled, stuffing that was showing. Duct tape trying to cover what was left of the cushions dignity. A breeze flowed through a crack in the window. "At last." Breathed the wind.

          I was thrown into a small space. Bars stuck out of the window like bad teeth. My confusion questioned me, was this a dream? Or was I living my nightmare. 

       A woman and a man entered staring cautiously at me, the sixteen year old boy who was found drugged in a creepy old shack of a house. I gazed back.

"Cobrias Fox."

It was more of a statement than a question. 

My silence echoed around the room. 

"We know what you did, Cobrias, we understand... you're not yourself, Cobrias, we'll help you, you see, It was all in your head, Cobrias."

I jumped from my seat, "it wasn't me!" I yelled, "it was Galen! He's framing me! I NEVER KILLED ANYONE!"

The two police officers exchanged a look.

"Bring her in," the woman said, speaking into a walkie talkie.

The door opened to reveal, Glorya. Her stance was bent, eyes fixed to the floor. Still in her maid outfit. I could smell her fear from my seat.

"Glorya? What's she doing here?" 

No one answered.

"You believe me, Glorya, don't you?"  

The look on her face said otherwise. "I'm sorry, Coby. I really am." Too bad that won't change anything. 

"Now," the man said. "You do know what happened, Cobrias? Don't you? No one has EVER seen Galen."

I sighed. No one knew where Galen was, they thought I made him up. My hands tried to cloud my face as I crumbled to the floor like a broken tombstone.

A gentle sound made me look up. "Cobrias," Glorya said in such a soft tone, I couldn't help but gaze at her. Her dainty hand stretched to pull me up. She grabbed me in to a bear hug, and told me. "In Sweden, we have a saying that is spoken a lot. Var inte galen​. It means don't be insane." 

    Glorya hugged me closer as I let my tears escape. In a whisper she spoke, "He's In your head, he's a part of you. You have to face it. You're Galen, Coby."  

        If I am Galen, 

That means I killed an innocent person,

That means that me and Galen are the same person.

That means the voices were him.

That means I am my own enemy.

That means I tried to kill myself.

Suppose, I always knew I was Galen

Suppose, I always knew I was insane.

For you think that everyone is sane, until you really get to know them.

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