I needed to take matters into my own hands, but I physically couldn’t. I couldn’t risk it, risk showing myself and never leaving here. Unless… “Hollie, I need you to trust me.” I stared right into her soul, stern faced, for her to return a look of fear. She replied hesitantly, “Of course.” I thought it would be best to not tell her my intentions and just act, besides knowing Hollie she would question why I didn’t just do it at the start. Old Man Jenkins told me a while ago that he used to possess people, to pass his infinite time. I just needed to use her body since I couldn’t use mine.
“Stand at the window and close your eyes, Hol.” Luckily she was calm, I stood behind her, taking in Jenkins’ instructions, closed my eyes, and ran.
Sweat gathered on my forehead, it was surprisingly warm for an October night. Warm? I was warm? I peered down at my hands, pink manicured nails- it worked. Now, I had some confrontation to do.
I sprinted to Lewis’ house, words jumbling frantically in my mind with every step. There were many things I needed to say to him- as me- but I was Hollie now. I had to remember that. For the five minutes that I was stood outside of his door I must’ve been resisting a panic attack, this was a strange sensation, being alive. The memories of this town overwhelmed me, me and Lewis riding our bikes on that very street, memories my death could not erase. I knocked in a scattered pattern, a shadow appeared in the glass of the door. “Hello again! Weren’t you here like half an hour ago?” Ahh Karen, my second Mother, how I’ve missed you.
“Hollie,” I may have said too forcefully, “I… I’m Hollie.” Karen invited me in and told me Lewis was up in his room so I made my way. Walking in and seeing him there, same old Lewis Fisher, everything I wanted to say vanished.
“Back again,” he smirked.
“Back again, who would’ve thought it?” I had to remember I was not Jack right now, and as much as I wanted to appreciate this moment with my best friend I had to focus on my plan.
“Did you miss me or something?”
“You killed him.” Tension lingered the air, he stood up from his bed.
“No… don’t be ridiculous, he was my best-”
“You stabbed him down that alley with that knife!” I pointed to the top of the bookshelf. His face grew paler as he approached me.
“Hollie, you don’t understand.”
“Then make me understand before I take that knife to the poli-”
“No!” He bellowed, gripping my shoulders. “No… Oh god I can’t do this any longer.” His breathing increased, the sweat on his face was ridiculously visible now. “I know who it was.” He sat on his bed and motioned me to sit next to him. God, he looked a mess. “It was her Dad’s knife,” I knew it, knew I recognised it! “She told me the night of the party…”
MAY 16TH 1986
Her mascara looks like spider’s legs growing from her eyes, how did she get in this state? Why was she in her father’s room alone during her party? Suddenly she was shouting at me, “Since he’s such a backstabber I’m going to make him feel it for himself!” What is she on about? I look at her dumbfounded. “He was going to end it! I heard him tell you. I’ll end him!” She’s stormed out, holding- holding her father’s machete! Surely not, she wouldn’t, I need to find Jack. Sprinting everywhere around the house, I can’t find him, I’m calling his name repeatedly. “Mate, he left like fifteen minutes ago, stop yelling you’re spoiling the song!” No, he couldn’t have left already. “What about Emma?” I asked the blunt stranger.
“She’s walked him home, wouldn’t let him go alone, was quite drunk herself though.” I took off out the front door; I had to catch up to them. I’ve ran endlessly back to his house, there was no sign the entire journey, my body collapsed against the wall. “You bastard!” It’s Emma! Where is she? I’m running again, she keeps shouting, I hope she won’t do anything stupid. “You don’t want to do this Em-“ That’s Jack! They’re down that alley, I’m approaching it and- there he is. Shit! Emma’s stood there, she appears possessed, shaking, still clenching the blood soaked knife. Time feels frozen, like I’ve been swallowed into a vortex. “What have I done?” she’s sobbing; the knife cascades to the ground. She’s coming closer to me and I’m unable to move, everything’s frozen in scepticism. “Help me,” she whispers into my chest as we collapse into an embrace.
Solving My Murder © Copyright Kelsey Cromwell.