I do not own Twilight.


I wrap my arms around my goosebump covered arms. My hair is matted on my head and my clothes are soaked through. I shiver in cold as the air is blasting even though it is pouring rain outside. The metal table and chair aren't very comforting.

I try to think about other things, any things, to keep my mind from wandering.

The only door in the room opens and in walks a rather fat male. He has a folder in his hands. I swallow thickly.

He stands across from me blocking my view of my own reflection in the giant window that I can't see through but that I know someone is watching me from.

After a minute he slaps the folder down on the table in front of me. I jump.

He pulls out a picture. Slides it across the table to me. I glance at it for only a moment. Then he slides another. I don't bother to look. I know what it shows.

"Look at them." He demands. I don't.

"Look at them!" he yells and bangs his fist on the cold metal table. I jump. I look at his angry face for only a second before turning to look at the pictures before me.

My hand starts to shake. Tears well in my eyes blurring the pictures to swirls of red.

The faces that stare back at me are not faces at all. They are corpses. Dead, cold corpses. Covered with blood. Red blood.

"You killed them and you can't even look at them. You're disgusting." He spits at me. tears fall down my cheeks mixing with the dried blood on my face. My blood? Maybe. Their blood? Most likely.

"You killed them didn't you? You murdered those two in cold blood." My legs begin to shake and my breathing comes shallow. I look down at my blood stained clothes. My blood stained clothes stained by their blood.

"You. Are. A. Murderer." He yells at me. Bile rises in my throat and I stumble up and over to a corner hastily as I vomit in disgust. I wipe my mouth and sob.

I sob because I know he's right. I did kill them. I did murder them in cold blood. Donna and Brent Weathers died by my hands just hours ago.


HappyEndings