Murder, Murder, And Perhaps, Even Murder | Teen Ink

Murder, Murder, And Perhaps, Even Murder

November 23, 2015
By haleylevan GOLD, New York, New York
haleylevan GOLD, New York, New York
13 articles 0 photos 4 comments

The Night She Died
Wind rustles, leaves churn. A car beeped. Naomi England walked among the gravestones, overgrown weeds, mud-brown and dry scraped against her leg. A gray gravestone, the color of storm clouds emerged out of the mist, almost the exact same as the ones surrounding it-except for then name. Maddison England. Date of Birth: March 23, 1983. Date of Death: Friday 13, 2009. Loving sister and daughter.
The day she died was tragic.
She had stayed home that day. Her parents had gone to Genorami's for dinner and her sister had gone to her friend's to go over her wedding plans with Vivian D'vil. Her wedding was supposed to bee in a week. Namoi was home alone. It was pouring, and at every flash of lightning, her heart raced, expecting to see a murderer in a dark cloak silhouetted against the light. A movie played in the background, screams rose in the air and it was so dark, Naomi could just make out a glint of silver and the terrified face of a girl. She glanced at her clock, it was shaped like a cat, and at every hour, it let out a meow. 11:47 PM. She frowned, her sister should've been back by now. Grabbing her phone, she dialed her sister's number. Ring, ring, ring. Voicemail. And then her cat went wild, the tail ticked faster and faster and faster until it dropped, dead on the floor with a whimpering half meow. And that was when she knew something was wrong. Cowering in the corner, squished between the sofa and the wall, she stayed. And then she heard a creak. Immediately, her heart began racing and beating so loudly, she was sure that it would give her away. A shadow. Flashing lights from the movie illuminated the couch and everything else in an eight feet radius. Beyond that, and all she could she was darkness. She was blind. Naomi pressed a clammy hand against her mouth, stifling a scream as panic built in her chest and she began hyperventilating. Until she heard her mother's voice.
"Why's it so dark in here?" A crash. And then the lights flicked on. Her mother frowned, "Naomi what are you doing in there?"
" Oh, um..." Naomi siad, her face flushing with embarassement. " I was just looking for something."
"Well get up. And where's your sister?" Her mother frowned again, surveyeing the house like Maddie was hiding somewhere.
"I don't know...she isn't with you?" Naomi asked, confused.
"No! She's not! Where is she?"
And then the phone rang. It was Vivian D'Vil.
"Hello?" Her mother asked.
"Hi Monica. Did Maddie come home?"
"No...why?"
"She just disappeared. I went to the bathroom and when I came back, she was gone!"
"Can you wait a second?" Cupping the phone with her hand, she said to Naomi, "Go get your father."
"Why?"
"Just go!"
Naomi stomped upstairs. A lone light was on in Maddie's room. Weird.
"Dad?" She asked. No answer.
Cautiously, she walked in. Curtains billowed in the wind, like ghosts. The room was neat and tidy, which it never was. Everything was gone, the room was completely clear of everything, except for a body. A body laying across the floor, limp like a ragdoll. Thirteen knives stuck out of it's back, circled by red splotches. It lay in a pool of blood. Maddie. Shock, panic, and desperation built in her chest until it exploded. She screamed, a high pitched wail loud enough to wake everyone in the neighborhood.
Slowly she backed out of the room, shaking.
"Naomi?" Her mother had heard her scream. "Are you okay?"
"I-I found Maddie."
"That's good, right?" she asked, confused. Silently, Naomi led her mother up the stairs toward...it. She watched as her mother's eyes widened, her face lost all color, pale as if she had seen a ghost. And then she whipped around and marched downstairs. Her mother never cried, she was always in control. She had the same hard green eyes as Naomi and the same mousy brown hair. It was usually pulled in a tight bun at the nape of her neck. Her father was the same.
Naomi shook herself out of the past. Whoever killed Maddie 6 years ago was going to pay. Naomi was going to have her revenge.

Chapter 2
Murderer?
The sky was a ominous yellow color as Naomi retreated from the cemetery towards the city. Keeping her head down against the rushing wind, she hurried down the street towards her house.
A flash of dark blue topaz crashed into her and a tornado of papers and files flew into the air. Glancing up, Naomi saw a semi familiar face. Tristan Fisher, Maddie's ex.
"Naomi is that you?" Tristan asked, squinting his sapphire blue eyes.
"Hey Tristan," she replied, smiling politely.
"It's good to see you Naomi." Tristan said, reaching down to pick up several flyaway papers from the ground.
"You too." Naomi said.
"Well, ah, I would ask how you're doing but I'm sort of in a rush. I'll see you later?"
"Yup, see you." Naomi waved.
Tristan left, walking quickly in an effort to make up for lost time. Naomi started toward her house again, until she noticed a white slip wedged between two rocks. One of Tristan's papers she suspected. Looking around, she couldn't find Tristan anywhere. He was long gone. Naomi stuffed the paper in her pocket. She'll give it to him the next time she bumped in to him.
By the time she came back home, it was dark. Like the night Maddie was murdered. She picked up the pace, threw open the door, and rushed in. When she stepped onto the large Welcome mat laying on the ground, a lone light was on. Like the night Maddie was murdered. Her parents weren't home. Again. Closing the door quietly behind her, she tiptoed up the steps. The second floor of her house wasn't very big, just a hallway lined by four doors on one side and the staircase on the other. The third floor was her floor. Well, she used to share it with Maddie, until...that happened. The walls were completely made of glass. The floor, wood. It was shaped like a pyramid, smooth glass slopes covered with red, velvet curtains. It was one large room, stuffed with beany chairs and feathery soft couches. Lights, rectangular prisms, hung from the ceiling. A TV sat in the corner. Naomi crashed onto her favorite couch, royal purple lined with fur. Comfortable, she slid out the paper Tristan had dropped earlier, curious. And then she gasped.
Maddison England
Date: May, 13, 1983                    Weapon: 13 knives
Time: 10:15                                Other: NA
Place: At the house
Tristan had killed her? Why? Naomi racked her mind for a motive, coming up with one. One thing that would make him murder her. Their breakup.
It had been a sunny day, a great day for a picnic. Naomi had been at home, studying for finals that week. The doorbell rung.
"I'll get it!" Naomi called, jumping out of her seat and racing towards the door. She would do anything to get out of studying. It was Tristan.
"Maddie!"
"I'm coming!" Her sister yelled, and clomped over, flip-flops slapping the wooden floorboards. Her face held no emotion as she glanced at Tristan.
Walking away, Naomi heard them, low voices speaking quickly to each other.
"I'm sorry," she heard Maddie say, "but I'm really busy right now, with finals and all. I don't think we can keep this up." Tristan muttered something Naomi didn't catch, and then she heard the door slam and Maddie's footsteps fading into the distance. Her mind whirled. Had they broken up? In exactly two hours and thirty-eight minutes, she got her answer. Yes.

Chapter 3
Revenge or Reason
Naomi sat, arms crossed on the couch, pondering. Grabbing a paper and pencil, she scrawled out a plan.



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