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Description
02: Guilt

Graham stood in front of the Foster Estate, a place he hadn't seen in a month. Now, as he gazed at the crime scene tape blocking the entrance to the house, he realized it was far too late.

He saw the lights of the ambulance coming closer and his heart began to hammer inside his chest; he knew what they were here for.

They had come for a body.

Graham's fingers tightened at his sides when he heard the doors to the ambulance open, and the sound of the stretcher being taken out; it was a thousand times louder than it should have, even over the howling of the wind.

As they wheeled the gurney into the house, all of his breath seemed to leave his body instantaneously, and he looked around for something to lean against. When he couldn't find anything, he sank onto the grass.

Get up, his mind hissed furiously.

"Shut up," Graham muttered as he watched the paramedics come from the house once more; this time, however, they had brought something out. His stomach turned unpleasantly.

Suddenly, a light shone in his face and he blinked, momentarily blinded by it. He didn't have a chance to get up before there was a pressure against his shoulder.

"I'm afraid you have to get up," said a voice. "You aren't allowed here. I'm not even sure how you got inside the gates."

"I was a friend of hers," Graham said weakly as he stood up.

"We called all her friends," the Officer said. "Who are you?"

"Graham Miller."

"Ah," said the man, "so you're G.M. We were wondering what that stood for. We just assumed it was a place and not a person."

"Could you not do that?" Graham asked, his voice shaking.

"Do what?" The man said.

"Talk to me like this is a casual conversation."

"Care to take a walk with me, Mr. Miller?"

"Not especially."

Graham had been watching as they lifted Sadie's blanketed body into the back of the ambulance and shut the doors. A cold sensation slithered up him, then, wrapping around his limbs, constricting him.

"She's not," he muttered, trying to find the right words. "She isn't dead. This is all some fucked up dream."

The pressure on his shoulder returned, and he realized it was a hand steering him toward the ambulance.

"You want to see that it's not a dream?"

"No," Graham said, his voice trembling.

The flashlight beam fell on the man's face, his blue eyes startled as the boy fought his way out of his grip.

Jeremy Rusin frowned.

They stopped just beside the closed doors and Jeremy felt Graham shiver. He could guarantee that it wasn't from the cold either.

"I can't," Graham said, his voice tight. "Don't make me go over there."

"You have to see."

"No, please," Graham whispered. "I can't see her."

"How come?" Jeremy wondered.

"I'm the reason she died," Graham said, shaking his head.

"You can't blame yourself," Jeremy said calmly. "You couldn't have known she was going to do that."

"Yes, I did." His body began to tremble, and he felt nauseous. "That was why I came; she called me to tell me that she felt guilty for hurting me."

"What do you mean?" Rusin asked, moving a hand through his shaggy hair. He led Graham away from the ambulance; instead, they sat on the front step of the house.

"We got into a fight last month and it didn't end well," the boy explained, his voice rattled. He shut his eyes and tried to focus on what happened after he fell from the couch in the living room.

"You can't make me leave."

Sadie sat up, her face no longer screwed up from tears. Instead, she looked like someone he had never seen before, someone he didn't want to know. Her eyes were different somehow.

"I can kill you," she replied in a voice that was most definitely not her own.

"That's not funny," Graham said, his voice strong and angry. "Don't say fucked up shit like that."

When she rose from the couch, Sadie had her head tilted, an uneasy look in her eyes as she glanced at him. She crept toward him in a predatory manner, and then she lunged.

Graham soon found out how much strength the seemingly small girl had in her as she caught his ankles, knocking him to the floor; he felt his head smash against the corner of the coffee table, but he didn't bother with the searing pain that coursed through his body.

"You're going to hurt me," Sadie hissed quietly, her cold fingers inching toward his throat. "I can't let you."

As the feeling of numbness surged through his head, Graham was able to gather enough force to shove the girl from him. He watched her collide with the wall and he blinked.

"This isn't funny anymore," he said. When he saw her slide to the floor, he thought he had hurt her. "That really could have been worse." He rubbed his head, wincing.

He knelt down in front of her and took one of her hands in his. He lifted her, moving her to the couch, and retreated to the kitchen to get her some ice.

"When I came back, she was crying." He rubbed his eyes wearily, looking at the ambulance as it began to pull away from the house. "I didn't understand what had happened, and I'm not sure she had either. I left quickly after that, and I hadn't been back until today."

Detective Rusin stared at him. "Why did she wait a month?"

"I don't know," Graham whispered. He pulled his knees to his chest and shook his head.

"Did you know she kept a journal?" Jeremy asked.

"No."

"We found it in her room before you got here," he explained. He handed Graham a tattered-looking leather book. "Your last encounter is not in there."

"What? But it has to be. Don't they usually write their feelings down?"

Rusin shook his head. "Not necessarily. Sadie might have just assumed people didn't care much about what she had to say."

"She cared what I thought," Graham said as he placed his hand on the back of his head. He didn't have to press hard for the pain to come.

"Where are her parents?"

"They died last year, and no, she had no siblings."

"Any friends or relatives?"

"She had an aunt in California, but they weren't speaking, and her uncle died when Sadie was five. I was the only one she had let herself get close to."

"You sound surprised."

"You would be too, if you had seen her, Detective. She was one of those quiet types, you know them? And she was so angry looking all the time, so bitter. She didn't want anything to do with anyone."

"When did you meet her?"

"I was walking back from a class when I saw a crowd of people by the girl's bathroom, so I was curious. She was being carried out by one of the Professors. Jesus, she looked so pale, probably more than I'd seen her. A shirt sleeve had been cut and was tied around her wrist, but I could still see the blood seeping through the fabric."

"She cut herself?" Rusin wondered.

"Yeah," Graham said. "I guess it was her way of dealing. I waited for her outside the nurse's office for what seemed like hours, and when she finally came out she looked pissed off." He laughed softly.

"Something funny?"

"She just always had the tendency to look angry, you know? It was kind of cute." Graham leaned his head back to watch the sky before he shut his eyes, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"You loved her." It wasn't a question.

"I did," he said, nodding. "I think I would have loved her for my entire life if I had met her earlier on."

Description
02: Guilt

Graham stood in front of the Foster Estate, a place he hadn't seen in a month. Now, as he gazed at the crime scene tape blocking the entrance to the house, he realized it was far too late.

He saw the lights of the ambulance coming closer and his heart began to hammer inside his chest; he knew what they were here for.

They had come for a body.

Graham's fingers tightened at his sides when he heard the doors to the ambulance open, and the sound of the stretcher being taken out; it was a thousand times louder than it should have, even over the howling of the wind.

As they wheeled the gurney into the house, all of his breath seemed to leave his body instantaneously, and he looked around for something to lean against. When he couldn't find anything, he sank onto the grass.

Get up, his mind hissed furiously.

"Shut up," Graham muttered as he watched the paramedics come from the house once more; this time, however, they had brought something out. His stomach turned unpleasantly.

Suddenly, a light shone in his face and he blinked, momentarily blinded by it. He didn't have a chance to get up before there was a pressure against his shoulder.

"I'm afraid you have to get up," said a voice. "You aren't allowed here. I'm not even sure how you got inside the gates."

"I was a friend of hers," Graham said weakly as he stood up.

"We called all her friends," the Officer said. "Who are you?"

"Graham Miller."

"Ah," said the man, "so you're G.M. We were wondering what that stood for. We just assumed it was a place and not a person."

"Could you not do that?" Graham asked, his voice shaking.

"Do what?" The man said.

"Talk to me like this is a casual conversation."

"Care to take a walk with me, Mr. Miller?"

"Not especially."

Graham had been watching as they lifted Sadie's blanketed body into the back of the ambulance and shut the doors. A cold sensation slithered up him, then, wrapping around his limbs, constricting him.

"She's not," he muttered, trying to find the right words. "She isn't dead. This is all some fucked up dream."

The pressure on his shoulder returned, and he realized it was a hand steering him toward the ambulance.

"You want to see that it's not a dream?"

"No," Graham said, his voice trembling.

The flashlight beam fell on the man's face, his blue eyes startled as the boy fought his way out of his grip.

Jeremy Rusin frowned.

They stopped just beside the closed doors and Jeremy felt Graham shiver. He could guarantee that it wasn't from the cold either.

"I can't," Graham said, his voice tight. "Don't make me go over there."

"You have to see."

"No, please," Graham whispered. "I can't see her."

"How come?" Jeremy wondered.

"I'm the reason she died," Graham said, shaking his head.

"You can't blame yourself," Jeremy said calmly. "You couldn't have known she was going to do that."

"Yes, I did." His body began to tremble, and he felt nauseous. "That was why I came; she called me to tell me that she felt guilty for hurting me."

"What do you mean?" Rusin asked, moving a hand through his shaggy hair. He led Graham away from the ambulance; instead, they sat on the front step of the house.

"We got into a fight last month and it didn't end well," the boy explained, his voice rattled. He shut his eyes and tried to focus on what happened after he fell from the couch in the living room.

"You can't make me leave."

Sadie sat up, her face no longer screwed up from tears. Instead, she looked like someone he had never seen before, someone he didn't want to know. Her eyes were different somehow.

"I can kill you," she replied in a voice that was most definitely not her own.

"That's not funny," Graham said, his voice strong and angry. "Don't say fucked up shit like that."

When she rose from the couch, Sadie had her head tilted, an uneasy look in her eyes as she glanced at him. She crept toward him in a predatory manner, and then she lunged.

Graham soon found out how much strength the seemingly small girl had in her as she caught his ankles, knocking him to the floor; he felt his head smash against the corner of the coffee table, but he didn't bother with the searing pain that coursed through his body.

"You're going to hurt me," Sadie hissed quietly, her cold fingers inching toward his throat. "I can't let you."

As the feeling of numbness surged through his head, Graham was able to gather enough force to shove the girl from him. He watched her collide with the wall and he blinked.

"This isn't funny anymore," he said. When he saw her slide to the floor, he thought he had hurt her. "That really could have been worse." He rubbed his head, wincing.

He knelt down in front of her and took one of her hands in his. He lifted her, moving her to the couch, and retreated to the kitchen to get her some ice.

"When I came back, she was crying." He rubbed his eyes wearily, looking at the ambulance as it began to pull away from the house. "I didn't understand what had happened, and I'm not sure she had either. I left quickly after that, and I hadn't been back until today."

Detective Rusin stared at him. "Why did she wait a month?"

"I don't know," Graham whispered. He pulled his knees to his chest and shook his head.

"Did you know she kept a journal?" Jeremy asked.

"No."

"We found it in her room before you got here," he explained. He handed Graham a tattered-looking leather book. "Your last encounter is not in there."

"What? But it has to be. Don't they usually write their feelings down?"

Rusin shook his head. "Not necessarily. Sadie might have just assumed people didn't care much about what she had to say."

"She cared what I thought," Graham said as he placed his hand on the back of his head. He didn't have to press hard for the pain to come.

"Where are her parents?"

"They died last year, and no, she had no siblings."

"Any friends or relatives?"

"She had an aunt in California, but they weren't speaking, and her uncle died when Sadie was five. I was the only one she had let herself get close to."

"You sound surprised."

"You would be too, if you had seen her, Detective. She was one of those quiet types, you know them? And she was so angry looking all the time, so bitter. She didn't want anything to do with anyone."

"When did you meet her?"

"I was walking back from a class when I saw a crowd of people by the girl's bathroom, so I was curious. She was being carried out by one of the Professors. Jesus, she looked so pale, probably more than I'd seen her. A shirt sleeve had been cut and was tied around her wrist, but I could still see the blood seeping through the fabric."

"She cut herself?" Rusin wondered.

"Yeah," Graham said. "I guess it was her way of dealing. I waited for her outside the nurse's office for what seemed like hours, and when she finally came out she looked pissed off." He laughed softly.

"Something funny?"

"She just always had the tendency to look angry, you know? It was kind of cute." Graham leaned his head back to watch the sky before he shut his eyes, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"You loved her." It wasn't a question.

"I did," he said, nodding. "I think I would have loved her for my entire life if I had met her earlier on."