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WHO KILLED ALEX?

The mystery that binds us

JANETH G. S.

Chapter Twenty-five

I had to figure out how to get in without my mother noticing. If she knew, then she would discover that I hadn’t been at home.

I had sworn I wouldn’t see Rosie, but my mother had broken one of our golden rules: always tell the truth. And, thanks to that, I had the perfect opportunity to break her rules, and I had been told what I needed and I wanted to hear.

Those words made my whole world recover the same old brightness. I felt peace inside me again. After all that time, I had a clear conscience.

In a few hours I had discovered two very important things. The first one: I hadn’t killed Alex, although, apparently, his death was still a mystery. And the second: my father wasn’t dead, and now I knew him and I even knew the reasons why my mother had changed our names, because I assumed that my original name was also different, and she made up a completely different story.

I had little hope that Alex was here, but when I looked around in my room, it vanished in a second. I had to admit: Alex’s rejection hurt me in the depths of my heart.

What was the problem? That we were cousins? Our relationship? That we still didn’t know who his murderer was? That his death was still a mystery? That Eric had lied to him about his death? Was he sad or disappointed?

I really didn’t understand what was bothering him. He didn’t seem excited to see Eric pounce on me and hug me. Neither was he interested, but indifferent. His way of acting made me feel terribly confused… In any case, if something had bothered him, he could have told me and I would have understood perfectly. I wasn’t a little girl.

I removed the pillows from the bed and ordered the room a bit to get rid of all the evidence that might have indicated that I had been away.

I kept thinking about everything that had happened that day. There was something I could admit in the privacy of my room: I was hurt. Being Eric’s daughter was a major obstacle in my relationship with Alex… The fact that he was a ghost already made things difficult enough.

But, somehow, I was happy. It was as if the little spark of hope that illuminated the emptiness in my heart, a void that had formed because I had grown up without the love of a father, had expanded and would have become a great and warm fire that made darkness disappear.

I had a father, and he wasn’t just anyone: my father was Eric Crowell. My father was alive.

I closed my eyes. I was very tired, but, to my surprise, I didn’t fall asleep… I started fantasizing. I imagined what my life would have been like if Eric had been part of it when I needed it… It’s not that I didn’t need it anymore, but adolescence was hard to cope with, especially when you only have a mother stepping on your heels.

I needed a father to tell me that extra pounds didn’t matter and that women were beautiful without makeup. I wished I had heard that he loved me, that he would do anything for me and that he would kill the boy who would hurt me or make me sad.

I opened my eyes and looked at the clock on the bedside table. It was after seven in the afternoon and Alex hadn’t appeared all day. He hadn’t even shown up to tell me where he was. It wasn’t an exaggeration at all. I was worried about him. I had two options in mind: either he was avoiding me or he was angry with me. Or maybe both.

For a moment, I thought it was a stranger, who seemed almost distant. It sounded like a fake. That is how I would describe it.

“No, I’ve eaten a lot in high school,” I lied without blinking, as if she saw me.

I wasn’t hungry because of the incredible donuts Rosie had prepared. She had even bothered to prepare a cloth bag with some strawberry and chocolate donuts with that delicious white frosting that I liked so much.

My mother answered cautiously. I was hoping she would change her mind. Although, it was obvious that wouldn’t happen.

Let’s say that my mother wasn’t very good at cooking, or at least that was my opinion. Her food wasn’t as delicious as the one Rosie prepared.

I saw that her shadow stopped by the door for a few seconds. I wished she was wondering if she should tell me the truth, that her conscience would reproach her for telling me that horrible lie. But then, the shadow disappeared.

I was very tired, but Alex’s absence kept me awake. What could have happened to him, Hannah? He is a ghost. You shouldn’t worry about him, but for the humans you will meet, I said to myself. But I was very uneasy. Even if he was a ghost, I loved him. And I couldn’t help but worry about him.

No matter how hard I tried, no matter how much I counted sheep, and even though I tried to imagine that I had a quiet life, I couldn’t sleep. It was impossible for me.

I looked at the clock on the bedside table again. Surprisingly, it was already two in the morning. I opened my eyes wide.

I should sleep. There was no other option. I couldn’t afford to spend another more sleepless night. If a night of insomnia had left me without energy, two nights in a row without hardly sleeping would leave me without the strength to stand up.

I tried once more. This time I closed my eyes tightly and forced myself to sleep… in vain. My body weakened as the minutes passed.

Good. Maybe a donut would help. I opened the cloth bag and pulled out a donut with strawberry filling and colored shavings. A smell of butter filled the room. And when I finished eating, I licked my fingers.

I didn’t eat one, nor two. I ate absolutely all those in the bag that Rosie had prepared for me, out of boredom.

I took another look at the clock: three in the morning. I yawned involuntarily and broke the silence of my room. Eating must have helped, because I was asleep after a while.

I heard a thud, but I felt so exhausted that I was confused. Was I dreaming or had I really heard it?

I woke up suddenly. The little light that came from the outside barely allowed me to see anything, only the shadows and silhouettes of the furniture.

I got up slowly. My back and feet hurt a lot, probably due to my own fatigue. It was as if I had been hit with a ball. Or with a stone.

I snorted and the noise reappeared. It seemed distant and it came from the outside. It sounded like a branch that was about to break.

I went back to bed, but before I took another step, I heard a moan. It was like an anguished moan. I became got on guard and took the first thing I saw: a shoe. I bent down and stood up as fast as I could. I raised the shoe with both hands in front of me, as if it were a weapon.

“Pssst,” I heard. I was sure the sound came from the window. I opened my eyes and straightened, “Pssst,” I heard a second time.

I was wondering if I should approach. Someone cleared their throat on the other side of the window.

“Who’s there? I’ll call the police if you don’t leave right now,” I exclaimed in a choked voice.

I was running out of air and my brain didn’t seem to control my hands, which began to tremble immediately.

I lowered my guard and my heart started to beat normally again. As soon as I heard that, I ran to the window, pulled back the curtain and saw Cara. She was freezing.

I opened the window quickly. An icy breeze ran through my body from head to toes. My face took the biggest impact of that blast and I felt it freeze. I shuddered. My hair bristled all over my body. A few seconds later, Cara entered the room cursing.

“What are you doing here at…?” I looked at the bedside clock for the third time, “Five past three in the morning?!” I added, surprised.

I had barely slept for five minutes. The cloth bag was still in bed. I wasn’t even wearing my pajamas. I had fallen asleep with my clothes on.

Cara looked frightened, and not precisely because she had to jump to get into my room.

“Are you okay?” whispered and approached her as I left the shoe in its place. Her eyes were wide open and she moved her hands nervously.

“At three in the morning?” I asked with a gape while I wiped the eyes from my eyes, swollen from the lack of sleep. I opened my mouth and continued, “About what?”

“It’s very important and I need you to listen to me,” she said in an anguished voice. She would get on her nerves every time a sound came from her dry and pale lips. She wasn’t wearing makeup, and that surprised me. She wore a black tracksuit, as if her mind had been too busy with something else to realize she had to primp. Her hair was ruffled and carelessly picked up with a hair band that looked like it would break at any moment. Although it wasn’t the only fragile thing; Cara looked ready to collapse and break into a thousand pieces.

I walked to the bedside table and, before I lit the lamp, I swallowed surreptitiously.

“And why at three o’clock in the morning? Couldn’t you wait until tomorrow?” I asked.

There was something in the way of pronouncing those words that gave me goosebumps. I turned and came across her red and swollen eyes.

“That doesn’t matter now,” she said in a trembling voice, “I have to confess something to you.”

Cara didn’t put up a fight her legs were shaking. She looked weak and sick, as if she had a fever.

“Listen carefully…” she ignored my question, “Hannah, Alex’s killer wants to kill you.”

Blood rushed to my head and made me dizzy. I felt it in my face more than in any other part of the body. I felt heavy.

And then, I stopped to think. She didn’t know that I had learned that I wasn’t Alex’s killer. So, who was she talking about when she said “the killer”?

“No, but he’s been sending me threating notes, Hannah. Alex’s killer also wants to kill me.”

“Well, I don’t know if it’s a man or a woman, I’m not sure…” she responded worried.

“It was a lie. You didn’t kill Alex,” she said, visibly hurt. She tortured herself for what she had done, “It was a lie,” she repeated hesitantly.

“Why?! Why did you lie to me in that way? You have no idea of everything I’ve thought of! You were very cruel to me!”

“I’m sorry?” I laughed cynically, “I’m sorry doesn’t fix all the damage you’ve done to me! It’s amazing how someone can say I’m sorry and believe that they will be forgiven. Things don’t work that way. The damage is done and the sequels will stay there forever.”

“Hannah, he’s going to kill me. Whoever it is, he will do it,” she said, very worried, as if my words didn’t matter.

Cara looked at the ground with a deep and disturbing look. Her hands didn’t stop shaking.

“I’m very scared, Hannah.” A tear slid down her cheek, “They said they would kill me,” she repeated. Her voice broke as a cascade of tears began to moisten her pale cheeks.

I ignored my anger and tried to find out what was really going on, but I didn’t trust her anymore. After everything that had happened, she wasn’t a person worthy of my trust. Although her blue eyes showed the opposite: Cara was telling the truth. I inferred that she had lied to me because the murderer had threatened her and because that way it would have been easier for me to stop investigating Alex’s death.

She reached into her trouser pocket, pulled out a white sheet of paper and handed it to me.

The note was folded into eight parts, so I proceeded to open it. I saw the letters written as she unfolded them.

“It’s the second one I receive this week. The first one said that I should be careful with what I was doing, and this one… it has simply written my death sentence on it… it isn’t just a threat. They will kill me.”

I looked at the paper for clues, but the person who had written it was very clever and had used newspaper clippings. The note had a question written on it:

“Cal don. Nothing will happen to you. I’m sure it’s a joke,” I tried to calm her down.

“Tom has also received one, but with a different message. He isn’t sick, Hannah. He was attacked by a gang. They hit him,” she confessed crying, “That’s why he’s wearing that scarf and he’s so covered. We are all very scared. Really, I’m sorry about what we told you about Alex, but Hannah, you must believe me, this is real,” she sobbed.

“Stop looking for the killer, Hannah. You are the one who provokes them, forget about it.”

Of all things, the last thing I wanted to do was disappoint Alex. I had promised him to help him find his killer and that was what I would do.

“Yes, please, Hannah. Do you want more deaths to come?” she moaned again. Her blue eyes looked at me warily, “It’s not your obligation, let the police do their work.”

“Then I’ll do it. I’ll leave Alex’s killer alone if that’s what you want,” I lied, “You’re right, I think this is only infuriating him more and I don’t want anyone to die because of me,” I added confidently.

“I’m so sorry,” she added regretfully. Her blue eyes looked at me closely and my whole body tensed, “All this is for you, Hannah. Don’t forget it. There are people who want you alive and there are others who don’t. Maybe you should trust more in yourself and not in others. You never know who can betray you and stab you in the back, right?”

“Hannah…” she said my name again in tears, “Someday you will realize that this is the best decision you have made in your life. I love you, you can’t imagine how much. You’re my best friend and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. This is for you. I love you, don’t forget it,” she repeated.

“Now?” I asked, wide-eyed, “You can’t leave at dawn, much less in that estate.”

“Thank you for listening to me anyway. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said with a languid smile.

“I’ve done everything I had to do. Now I have to go home. And, Hannah… Really, I’m sorry. I wish you can forgive me one day,” she repeated. Her eyes were tired and swollen.

Then, she rushed to me and hugged me. She left my shoulder full of snot and tears.

I tried to smile, but it was very difficult. After what had happened… I distrusted everyone.

“One more thing,” she said in a shrill voice, “Don’t tell anyone that I’ve been here. And burn that note.”

Seconds later, Cara disappeared through the window while asking me for forgiveness again and again.

I latched the window and looked at the clock again. Three thirty in the morning.

I didn’t understand Cara’s attitude. It hurt me to see her in that state and, above all, it hurt that she had lied to me. However, I was worried that she had left. I assumed she had come by car, because shortly after closing the window I heard the grinding of tires. Cara wouldn’t dare to go alone at this hour, much less after receiving that note.

“Hannah!” I heard far away, “Hannah!” someone was shouting my name, but I didn’t know where it came from. I was too tired and disoriented.

“Hannah! Open! Hannah, for God’s sake! Tell me you’re in there!” shouted a voice with despair.

Afterwards, I heard an annoying sound: someone strongly knocked on the door of my room. I jumped.

“Hannah!” The voice sounded terrified as the person banged on the door, “Hannah! Open, for God’s sake! Open at once, Hannah!” it shouted in frustration.

On the other side of the door, someone was still pounding the wood hard to try to open it. The handle didn’t stop going up and down.

I snapped my eyes open and listened. I heard a siren very close to our house. Then I became alert. Something bad had happened.

For the umpteenth time, I looked at the clock. I didn’t believe it! It had been only ten minutes since Cara had left! Four minutes to twenty in the morning!

“For God’s sake! I thought that…! Oh my God! Are you okay? Why didn’t you open?” She lunged at me and held me in her warm arms, “You gave me a good scare, Hannah! Oh! Are you okay?” she repeated, scared, “I love you, honey. I thought you had left! Oh my God!” she exclaimed.

”Mom…” I began to free myself from her embrace, “Mom, what’s wrong?” I asked at last.

I looked into her eyes and saw two tears running down her flushed cheeks. When I heard the sirens again and saw my mother crying, I panicked. I was desperate.

She looked at me sadly. She wiped the tears that fell from her eyes and looked at me uneasily. She wore her silk robe tied around her waist. The white fabric didn’t leave much room for imagination, but it covered most of her body.

I was running faster and faster. Adrenaline flowed through my veins. My pulse was fast and I soon felt agitated. However, my legs were screaming for me to keep running, and that’s what I did. I ran to get to the place where the sirens were. My heart was beating so fast it hurt.

In the distance, I saw an ambulance. Its deafening sound shook me. I was running down the street, barefoot. The stones stuck in the soles of my feet, but I didn’t care.

My eyes got wet and everything began to blur as I approached. Tears threatened to escape again. I heard someone scream my name in the distance.

When I was close enough, I saw what had happened and began to mourn inconsolably. They had cordoned off the area with yellow tape that forbade us from coming an near, and a navy blue car was parked in the middle of the street. My heart was still pounding. Then, I got dizzy and everything seemed to move in slow motion.

The vehicle had the windshield broken and the pilot’s door was open. It didn’t have a license plate. I noticed a bitter taste in my throat.

I saw the chief of police taking notes from what some people told him. He was a chubby old man with gray hair and a white mustache. His badge hung proudly on his blue shirt.

The police didn’t look at me and he kept writing down things in his notebook. I felt an immense pain in my heart.

”So, have you seen who was driving the car?” he asked a bald man who was standing next to me.

“No sir. I heard the wheels creak, and my wife and I went out to see what happened, but we didn’t see the driver,” the bald man replied.

“Where is the girl?2 I asked the policeman in a trembling voice. My lip trembled.

“I told you I can’t give you that information,” he said reluctantly, and then kept writing down things in his notebook. I cursed in a low voice.

I looked at him again. He was distracted writing on the notebook, and one of the inspectors photographed the place and marked the areas where there was evidence.

“Hey! You shall not pass!” The policeman shouted, but I ignored him and continued running.

I stopped in my tracks when I crossed the tape. I felt a blast of cold air and I was shocked. Cara’s body rested about four meters away from the blue vehicle. A huge, sticky pool of blood surrounded her. Her eyes were closed.

I ran to Cara’s limp body and dropped by her side. Her face was stained with blood, wherever I looked.

“You’re altering the crime scene! Get her out of here!” called out one of the detectives.

“Calm down,” said the man, who grabbed me even more strongly, “I have a young woman suffering a panic attack here! I need a tranquilizer!” he said on the radio.

Then, two more men appeared from nowhere and held me tight. They injected something into my arm. I tried to avoid it, but there were three of them, so it was impossible for me.

Little by little, my body began to weaken and immediately all my strength left me.

Cara Marie Carter died on December 8, 2014 at 03.31. A vehicle without a license plate hit her and the driver fled.

About the author

Janeth G. S. is a Mexican young author that started publishing her books on the famous online storytelling community Wattpad back in 2014. All of a sudden, her number of followers rose very quickly, and in 2015, she won the Wattys Award for the most popular mystery book with Who killed Alex?

Who killed Alex?

The literary phenomenon on Wattpad.

Over 41 million reads.

Wattys Award.

Best-seller in more than 10 countries.

Hannah is a sixteen-year-old student hooked on social media. One day, she receives a friend request on Facebook from a boy named Alex Crowell. After accepting it, Hannah discovers that Alex is missing and that he is given up for dead. However, an eerie event takes place: Hannah gets a message from the boy, who asks for help to find out who killed him. From that moment, she will start an investigation to track down the killer with Alex's ghost help. But facing the truth won’t be easy for either of them…

Chapter One

I awoke consumed by pain. The room was spinning, so I blinked a couple of times. The dizziness didn’t take long to show up and it made me sick to my stomach. Everything went blurry. I had the vague feeling of being in the wrong place, with no control over what was happening. The ceiling began to collapse on my limp body.

I felt a bitter taste at the back of my throat. After a few seconds, I settled down and, little by little, the space began to take shape. The shadows tinged with color. When the dizziness ceased, I realized that I was in my room. I was covered in a white sheet and, strangely, it was wet. I knew immediately that something wasn’t right: my forehead was sweaty, my bones ached and any movement I made, would make it worse. It didn’t take long for me to realize that I was drenched in sweat. I cursed quietly when the pain became more intense.

My head pounded as I tried to understand what had happened. The last thing my brain evoked was a hazy memory at high school. However, they only were incomplete pieces. Nothing that could help me solve the mystery.

“What happened?” I asked. I sounded as if had been drinking. My vice was rough and hoarse.

“An accident,” answered a male voice in the distance, “It’s nothing serious. There’s no need to worry.”

I was startled. I panicked when I noticed there was a man in my room. I didn’t feel safe. I sat up quickly, rubbed my head and closed my eyes. My physical torture was intensifying.

“Don’t worry. The pain will be over in a few minutes. I’ve given you a pill that will make you feel better,” he explained. “I’m Dr. Richard, Hannah.”

Knowing that he was a doctor comforted me, but not enough. The dizziness was still there and my head throbbed heavily, not to mention the anxiety that caused me not to remember what had happened.

Saying those words was a challenge. My face felt as if I had been hit with a bat. My broken voice revealed my suffering: if I had had an accident and there was a doctor in my room, it was something to worry about.

“It’s nothing serious,” he insisted. His tone was soft and reassuring. I even noticed a kind smile. I looked towards the corner where the voice came from. His teeth were completely white and his lips were thin, old, and as wrinkled and the trousers he wore. “It happened at high school while you played soccer. They hit you with the ball in the face and you fainted. But as I said, there’s nothing to worry about.”

I hesitated. I wasn’t an absent-minded girl. I was very careful with what I did, and I wasn’t so clueless to end up on a football field during the match. It could be dangerous. Also, I had never been good at kicking a ball; I was better at playing basketball.

I studied the man, who held my gaze while he smiled at me. I saw that he was putting away an empty syringe in the pocket of his rumpled robe. His face was full of hundreds of lines. It seemed he had been passionate about his job for a long time.

As he said nothing, I decided to look away. And then, the room spun around again for a few seconds. “Where is my mother?”

I held my head down. “I’m here,” she sounded close. Maybe, it came from the door near the bed. Her voice reassured me and I looked for her.

“Mom,” I said sleepily, “What happened?” “The doctor already told you. You had an accident at school,” her voice was soothing and formal, like the one she used to talk to the students. She had become so used to speak in such a way that, sometimes, she forgot I also was her daughter, “Fortunately, everything is fine. you’re well. And Dr. Richard says the headache will soon be over.”“That means I’ve got no excuse to skip school tomorrow, right?” Luckily, my sense of humor hadn’t abandoned me. I was wishing they would give me, at least, a day of rest. Being the headmaster’s daughter wasn’t an easy task. And if someone thought I would have privileges, they were hugely mistaken. In fact, I had more responsibilities.

I heard his soft laugh.“Exactly. So get ready to catch up. I’ve asked your teachers to mail you yesterday’s and today’s activities.”“Excuse me, but how long have I been here?” I was confused. Now I understood why my whole body hurt and why I had a bruise on my arm. I had had the longest vacation of my life and I hadn’t been able to enjoy it. It wasn’t fair. “Two days,” Dr. Richard’s voice echoed in the room. Once again, everything started turning, “You needed some rest.”

I tried to remember the accident, but I was unable. There was nothing but darkness. My memories had got lost somewhere in my brain.“I don’t remember anything,” I stated. My voice was hoarse, “Why can’t I remember it?”

It bothered me that my mind couldn’t give me an answer. I felt like Cara’s grandfather, who forgot the simplest things, like, for example, that he had put his glasses on his head, or where he had spent the weekend. It was overwhelming. I just needed to create an image with what Dr. Richard and my mother had told me, and it was very frustrating. “You will do so in due course, Hannah. Memories don’t die nor hide forever,” he answered confidently. I had the feeling that he said it with a smile. Maybe I was becoming a bit paranoid, but it scared me not to remember the accident, and the continuous hammering in my head tormented me, “Now you need rest.” “I need to rest even more?”

I didn’t want to go back to sleep, nor to stay in bed. I wanted to get up and run away. I wanted to do something.

“Whatever it takes,” my mother said firmly. “Your mother is right, you need to rest and recover. you’re a healthy girl. The pain will stop and the memories will return sooner or later. You’re just in shock,” the doctor’s warm voice filled the room and, somehow, I began to trust him. My mother seemed to do so.

I nodded slightly. His calm smile gave me confidence. He was a big man. The white coat fitted his well-built body so that a couple of buttons seemed to be about to pop off. His eyes looked tired; there were dark spots beneath those gray marbles that gave away his age and his experience. He had the grayest hair I had ever seen. When the sun rays reflected on his head, it became even more silvery, like that of an old man’s. He had, surely, found himself in much worse situations and I was complaining about a simple headache.

“Thank you very much doctor,” said my mother, “I know you’re busy and you need to get back to the hospital. Come with me and I will write you a check.

“I hope you recover soon,” he said frankly. Then he turned to my mother, “Margaret, you’ve got my number. If there’s something wrong, call me. If, for any reason, I’m not available, one of my colleagues will help you.”

“Thank you very much,” my mother answered with a smile. His returned the gesture and his eyes shone, “I’m sure Hannah will recover soon. I will buy the medication you have prescribed, and we will wait for it to take effect.”

“Of course,” he assured, ready to leave the room. You could tell he was in a hurry. Despite his age, he moved as fast as a young man, he didn’t hesitate, and his confidence showed up whenever he spoke, “It’s been a pleasure to meet you, Hannah. And don’t worry. Everything will be fine.” His words were sincere.

The doctor picked up his briefcase and adjusted one of his suspenders that fell out of place from time to time. The briefcase was perfectly neat and tidy as unlike his robe and trousers.

He said goodbye with a nod and smiled without knowing what to say. Then, my stomach rebelled and I had to fight the urge to throw up.

My mother left the room and the doctor followed her. The footsteps and the voices died away. Suddenly, under the damp sheets, I drift off into a dream full of storms.

The storm woke me up after a while. A sequence of lightning flashed across the room for a few seconds, and the thunder that came after it made the windows shake. I shuddered with fear. Darkness soon blackened every corner. I kept on sweating in my soaked sheets.

All I could see were shadows. My room smelled of petrichor, and I was sure that the same aroma could be found in the surrounding houses.

I sat up and tried to make sense of everything that had happened. The storm refused to cease. Loud thundering resounded, as if heaven’s guts were growling. My bed shook. The bedroom was illuminated for a couple of seconds, but it blacked out the same way it appeared. Raindrops struck the windows with fury. They were persistent, as if they wanted to enter the room. The dark and cloudy sky continued to roar, with increasing intensity. Thunder and lightning seemed to fight to overwhelm one another. And the drops, dancing in the storm, kept them company. They were big like stones.

Despite the long intervals of sleep, I felt exhausted. Each part of my body weighed twice as much as usual.

I struggled to sit on the edge of the bed. My hair was greasy; I felt the dirty strands stuck to my cheeks. There was no need for anyone to tell me that I needed shower urgently. I stood up without hesitation. My toes came into contact with the cold floor and I took a few steps. I looked for the lamp on my desk. As I groped in the dark, I recognized some papers that I had left scattered. I felt carefully, afraid of hurting myself, but I only managed to touch some pencils, a computer keyboard, an empty water bottle, some thick books and a plastic pot. I made a quick movement, something fell abruptly, and I heard hundreds of small metal pieces scatter on the floor. I ran the risk of treading barefoot on my colorful paper clips. In the dark, I was prone to hurt myself, so I needed to turn on the light.

A flash of lightning brightened the sky, allowing me to see, for a few seconds, the cream-colored lamp that my mother had given me for my twelfth birthday. I moved rapidly, before the night returned, and turned it on. The room lit up.

I picked up the last paper clip and put it in back in the holder. I left it on the desk and something caught my attention: my computer had suddenly turned on.

The door was shut, and an irresistible desire to go on my social networks invaded me. Probably Cara, my best friend, had sent me a message or had published something on my Facebook wall. Since my mother hadn’t mentioned it, I assumed that she hadn’t visited me while I was unconscious.

I pushed the chair away from the desk to sit down. The screen lit up when I moved the mouse. I bit my nails unconsciously and chewed a small piece that I had torn off. My mouth was dry. I quickly typed a message to Cara. When I finished, I pressed the send button. A moment later, I received a notification. I thought it would be her answer. That was fast.

I opened the message and all it said was: “Hello.”As I had made a deal with my mother, I wasn’t allowed to accept any friendship requests from strangers. In return, I could keep the computer in my room, away from her control. It was a fair deal. However, I was consumed with curiosity, so I clicked on his name and accessed his profile. He was a really handsome boy, to be honest.

It was then that the angel and the demon appeared on my shoulders. Should I break the only rule my mother had imposed? Or should I ignore the handsome boy who had just sent me a message? It was a difficult choice. I spat out the piece of chewed nail that was still in my mouth and guided the cursor over the button that said: “Add friend.”

We could be friends. The voice inside my head brought me to my senses and I scolded myself. I couldn’t add him. I didn’t know him or what he wanted. However, I could find out.

I stood up and paced the room. In the blink of an eye, my palms were bathed in sweat.

Then, I realized I was giving him too much importance. So I bit my nails again; it was the pointer finger’s turn. In an impulse, I pressed the button and added him to my friends. Five seconds later, the request was accepted.

They were the longest seconds of my life. I remained motionless with my eyes fixed on the screen.

There was no way to describe the fear and the anguish I felt. I felt blood rushing through my cold and pale face. Suddenly, I froze.

I remained still in front of the monitor. A tingle on the back of my neck made me scratch and shake my head. It was too disturbing. A shiver went down my body. The rush of blood through my face was even more intense.

I was shocked with what I read on Alex’s wall. “You’re an angel who decided to return home”, or, what seemed to have been written by his brother: “You were the best brother on the face of the earth, I love you. We will always remember you. Rest in peace”.

I felt a knot in my stomach and I thought I was going to be sick. And this time, it wasn’t because of my medication.

Alex sent me another message with a smiley. But that face seemed threatening, not happy.

I swallowed hard and prepared myself to write an answer. My fingers were shaking, and I wasn’t a restless person, still, there was something about that situation that made me react like that.

I raised my feet and set them on the chair in an unconscious move. The room was dark and the screen was the only thing that enlightened it. I didn’t remember turning off the lamp; I even wondered if I really had. The nape of my neck itched again.

The screen showed that Alex was writing. Then, he stopped and nothing else happened.

“If it’s a joke and you’re trying to scare me, it’s not working and it’s not funny either. If what you want is to bother and intimidate me, I should do a better job,” I wrote quickly. Wrong, Hannah, wrong.

I had my back to the bed when a spooky noise startled me and I turned around. It came from under the bed. I wanted to turn on the light, with a quick movement, but my brain was blocked by fear and I couldn’t react. I was only able to concentrate on one thing: that terrifying sound. I curled up in a ball and brought my knees to my chest to feel protected. A voice in my head warned me. If I put my feet down, something would grab me and it wouldn’t be nice for sure.

The noise reminded me of scratching on the floor, as if there was a cat scraping it incessantly. I wanted to scream, but nothing came out of my throat. I was petrified. Where was my mother when I needed her?

When I gathered the courage to do so, I got up and slowly approached the bed to see what caused the noise. I prayed for it to be cat that had sneaked into my room. I knew it was impossible, but I tried to convince myself that it was the only reasonable explanation. I walked a little more on shaking legs and sweating hands. It made my skin crawl. The wooden floor creaked with each step. When I was close enough, I knelt down and felt someone watching me; something or somebody was behind me, I could feel it. And, whatever it was, it knew I was aware of it. But I didn’t turn around. I didn’t have the nerve to do so.

I grabbed the bed sheets between my fingers and gripped them tight. The storm didn’t stop. The sound of the drops tapping on the window echoed in the room. I lifted the sheet in a heartbeat.

As soon as I did, the scratches halted. There was absolutely nothing under the bed, which was even more disturbing. I went back to the computer and saw that I had a new message from him.

I felt a lump in my throat. If someone at high school or a neighbor were playing a mean trick on me, they’ll pay for it. They wouldn’t get away with it. I was getting really scared.

“Hannah, I need you to help me figure out who killed me,” he wrote. “This isn’t funny. Leave me alone!” I gasped. It found it hard to breathe. And then I felt something blowing over the back of my neck.

Chapter Two

The doorknob began to move up and down rapidly. Without a thought, I jumped out of the chair. I took a step back, and then another, to get away from the door. My legs faltered and I knew that, at any moment, I would collapse. The latch was still stirring and I felt the need to run. But where would I go?

I had trouble catching my breath. “Hannah?” they cried out on the other side of the door. It was the sweet and tender voice of a woman that I recognized immediately. She was my mother, “Why have you closed the door?” she shouted, struggling to make herself heard over the rain.

I ran to the closet and grabbed the first thing I saw. I took off the damp clothes I was wearing and I got dressed in a rush; I even put on my white sneakers. I straightened my shirt with my hands still shaking and I turned off the computer. I breathed deeply. The deepest I could until my lungs hurt. I released the air through my mouth, and my breathing returned to a normal rhythm.

My hands were sweaty and my feet were totally uncoordinated, I forgot which one was right and which one was left. It was a strange feeling being unable to think clearly. I had to reassure myself or I would faint anytime soon and, then, I would have a good excuse to miss class. Actually, I wanted to go back to high school as soon as possible. I took seven steps until I reached the door. The handle was totally at rest.

I still felt the adrenaline running through my body, but I couldn’t make her wait any longer. I had to open the door. “I’m sorry…” I apologized when I saw her. She stood with folded arms and a furrowed brow. I tried to smile and to act normal.

I thought about how young my mother was. We were identical, but she was a bit older. Her bright eyes looked at me uneasily. Her hair, that was as black as mine, was in a high ponytail, and her skin was as white as mine. We were quite similar, except for the eyes. Hers were honey-colored, while mine were blue, like my father’s. A father I had never met. “Are you alright? You look really pale,” she said. Her thin mouth moved quickly as she spoke, and the pink lip-gloss of her lips stuck and unstuck gently when she did. “Paler than usual?” I teased and she smiled. I sensed that she wouldn’t make any more questions. Her face softened and she looked even younger.

“Cara is here. She says you were meeting up,” my mother explained. “Cara? But, it’s almost time to go to bed and there is a terrible storm.

What if it was her who had played the Alex joke on me? It wouldn’t be surprising. Cara could be so witty… She knew almost everyone at high school and anyone would do anything for her, as she was cheer captain.

“Maybe she was supposed to sleep over and you don’t remember,” my mum added. I hesitated. I had no memories of speaking to her during the last week, except for the message I had just sent her through Facebook, and I didn’t remember having planned a sleepover for that night. “Maybe. The exams and this headache are driving me crazy,” I smiled and then I realized I hadn’t let go of the doorknob since I had opened the door. My sweaty hand was still holding it tight.

My mother just shook her head and smiled. She went down the corridor on the second floor, where our bedrooms were. We were the only ones living at home. The door to her room was right in front of mine and it was white. The whole house was neat, clean and bright. Except for my room. And of course, my mother didn’t want me to stick posters or anything else on the walls or the doors.

I released the knob, which was completely wet. I wiped my hands on my khaki pants and closed the door, ready to leave.

When I went down the stairs, I was surprised to see a person in the living room, with his back to me. He was tall and, by the way he moved his head, he seemed to be looking for something, as if he had lost something in the house. I frowned and stopped at the end of the steps.

WHO KILLED ALEX? 1