Blood on my hands

Chapter 1

chapter1

"Patrick Hale Nelson." The interrogator threw the papers down on the table. I looked down at them and back at the man disgusted. They were of Patrick, of his bloodied body anyway. "His was throat slit," he ran his finger along the curve of his neck, "from one ear to the other." He pulled a chair up next to me. I could smell the cigarette smoke on his clothes. All I could think is how the D.A.R.E officers used to come to my elementary school telling us to stay away from the stuff, hypocrites.



I sat calmly. They had nothing, I was sure of it. Still, what if I'd...no. I'd been careful. No one saw me slip into his house that night. Plus, everyone saw me at the party. As far as Brenden knew, I was with him all night. Thank God for cough medicine and sleeping pills, but, still...



"I heard about that." I replied.



"You heard about it?" I nodded. "Did your ex-girlfriend tell ya' 'bout it?" I glared him in the eye; he held my gaze. How did he know about Carson?

"No, we don't really talk anymore."



"Or were you there?" Our eyes were locked. He wanted me to look away, but I had no problem lying to someone's face.



"No, I was with my friend, Brenden, all night. You can ask him." I realized I hadn't answered his prior question."The whole school knows about it. One of the most liked people in the school turns up dead, of course everyone's gonna be talking."



"So you liked Patrick?" He finally looked away as he stood up. He paced past the one way mirror in the wall. He was trying to make me nervous. It didn't work. I sat still with my arms folded casually on the table. Careful not to fidget or mess with my hands, sure signs of a liar.



"He sits at my table in Chemistry, seemed pretty cool." I paused, dramatic effect, and added with perfect remorse, "He's really gone isn't he?" As I listened to myself talk, I sent a silent 'thank you' to my middle school drama teacher.



"Sell the role, Zach. Do that, and you can be anyone." Mrs. H always told me. She would be proud of my performance.



"Even after he stole your girlfriend." He nodded thoughtfully as he paced. I wanted to scream at him. Carson wasn't just a piece of property to be taken, but I kept my palms flat, though they longed to be balled into fists. 'Sell the role Zach' the demon of my ego whispered ever so sweetly. I wasn't going to give the observers on the other side of the glass the show they wanted. There'd be no confession, no arrest, not today.



"Bros before hoes." It left a bitter taste on my tongue. It's not real, I reminded myself, it's just a role. "I didn't do it if that's what you think."

"Do what?" He was testing me; I didn't like it.



"Kill him, or anything else for that matter. Like I said, Brenden was with me all night. His parents were there too." A cell phone rang, echoing in the nearly empty room. The interrogator pulled a Blackberry from his pant pocket.



"Jentzen." He stated his name to the caller. He listened a moment, grumbled something incomprehensible to me, and hung up. The way he pounded the key, angry, frustrated, I knew what was coming next. He walked to the door, and held it open for someone to walk through. "You're free to go. Thank you for your cooperation." I stood up wordlessly and pushed my chair in like the good boy they needed to believe I was.



"No problem." I said as I walked past. I didn't look back as I strolled down the hallway. I waited till I pushed through the revolving doors that lead to the sidewalk outside. Only then did I let myself to glance back. Just as I'd hoped, No one paid any attention to me. Even the interrogator was sitting in front of a computer screen, having no interest in his dead end lead. A grin slid across my face.


I did it.

I won.

I turned away, and walked down the street like any teenager would on any normal day. Maybe on their way home, or to a friend's house. I had bigger plans,and murder weapon to dispose of. Resting hidden under Brenden's bed.

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