Cashmere

When Max finds her fellow school girl, Bea Darles, sexually assaulted and murdered on the side of the road, a web of lies begins to unravel leaving innocent Max at the centre of it. Backtracking to recall those days when Bea was alive, Max is desperate to discover who attacked Bea, while putting herself in danger. And it all started with that sweater.

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1. Chapter One

Tearing down the road at 80. The road that was peaceful before my appearance. Dead.  I franticly pull at my hair, trying to understand what I just saw. She was having sex with him. With them… gross. More importantly, it was the boy I had loved through my entire time at high school. She knew what she was doing, the evil, conniving little bitch. 

All I could picture was her and … him. The radio was turned up, the windows steamed up, and I was not better. The rain shot down on my windscreen while the wipers dashed to fix the damage. Cigarette lit, hand shaking, I raced around the corner.

Wait.

Something was back there. I slammed hard on my brakes and exited the comfort of my vehicle. The warmth was right behind me, as was she. Lying by the side of the road was her, Bea, a mangled, stone cold, blood covered Bea. She had cuts and bruises all over her face and arms, tights ripped and hair with the appearance of hive. I heard her gasping for breath as her eyes followed me down to her side. 

Taking off my sweater, I became victim to the cold that hit Bea all too well, freezing her skin to an ice white state. Wrapping it around her, I heard her final mutter. “You never did have a good sense of fashion” We shared a brief laugh.

That is when she drifted out of consciousness. Of which she would never awake. I shook her, pleading for her to wake. Not giving up, I ran to my car, searched for my phone and dialled 999. Too late.

I will always have been too late. Too late to realise people change. Too late to realise I'm alone. Too late to the party. Too late to save my best friend.

Holding her head in my arms, I wept, while waving down the approaching vehicles. "Hush little Bea, don't say a word... You're still the prettiest little Bea in town"

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