Author's note: This is one of my first novels I have written. I really enjoyed writing it and am looking forward... Show full author's note »
MichelleI see her pull out the knife. The knife stained with my blood.
I see my brother. Shocked. Defenseless.
And then a thought pops into my head.
I try to push it away and start to think of something else.
I have to try.
I walk towards Sam, stepping through him. Fitting my limbs into his limbs. Filling his mind with my mind. When I lift up my arm, Sam’s arm lifts. It works. I am in Sam’s body.
Hope takes a step forward, a bloodthirsty look in her eyes. A look you wouldn’t expect from the fun-loving Hope I once knew.
“He loves you, Hope.” I say.
“Who?” she asks.
“You killed your brother. But he still loves you. I saw him in the dark part of the In Between. Where the soul faces the scene of death.”
“Michelle,” she almost whispers.
“He says ‘I loved my murderer’ over and over. Even though he cannot leave. He is stuck there. He can’t find peace.”
“No,” she drops the knife, “not Oliver. He doesn’t deserve that.”
“Because his situation was so drastic, he cannot leave. Not until his soul finds peace, that is. But how can he find peace when the one he looked up to murdered him? When I died, I was not stuck here. I could leave. I had peace because I was not betrayed by my family. I thought they would be safe.”
“They were. I had no intention of killing Sam. I just planned to steer him out of the way so he wouldn’t think it was me. The guilt is eating me alive, but I will never confess. When Sam started to figure things out, I panicked.”
“Why did you kill me?” I pause, “Why did you kill your brother?”
Hope falls to the floor in tears.
“I didn’t mean to,” she sobs, “Something unexplainable took over me. It was like a deathly obsession. When I murdered Oliver, I couldn’t live with the guilt. So when the time finally came, I applied for a college out of state to get away from my parents. And got my own apartment so I wouldn’t endanger a roommate.”
“But you came home to murder your best friend.”
“Yes. I did. I couldn’t help it.” Hope looks up at me like a helpless child, “I’m scared.”
I walk across the floor and pick up the knife.
“Join me,” I say, “Join your brother.”
Hope nods, taking the knife in her hands.
“I’m coming, Oliver.” she whispers before bringing the knife forth into her chest.