AN: Lala, an update. After this, there are only 3 chapters left. Well, 2 chapters and an epilogue, but yeah. And I'm writing a new story (a happy one – omgz) called Home is Where the Heart is and I'll hopefully get it out within the next month. Just so you know, school starts for me on August 14th (yeah, I know, what the fuck) but once it starts I'll probably be writing a LOT less.

Title: Tales of a Broken Man: The Troy Bolton Story
Rating: T
Author: MadiWillow
Summary: A memoir on the life of famous NBA basketball player, Troy Bolton.
Genre: Drama/Tragedy
Chapter: Time Wears A Pretty Face

Time Wears A Pretty Face

A week went by and I felt like I couldn't take it anymore. We were so close to catching Gabriella's and Isabella's murderer, yet the stupid-ass judge wouldn't grant us an arrest until we found the murder weapon, which was near impossible. Or, of course, we could get a confession, but I definitely didn't think we were gonna get one.

It was now two weeks since the murder, and I didn't know what to do with myself. I was lonely, since all of my friends had gone back to their respective homes, and I didn't have anything to do. I was out of work until July, and I had no reason to go anywhere else. Why should I? Did I really have anything to live for?

I voiced this theory to Chad one night, and the very next day Jason and Kelsi had shown up. They had been told by Chad that I was possibly suicidal, and, since he couldn't get off work and Taylor had to take care of Caleb, he'd sent them over to stay with me for a while. I told them I didn't need anyone to stay with me, but they wouldn't hear any of it. They told me that all of them – meaning, our group of friends – had discussed it, and decided that one of them would be staying with me at all times. I wasted no time in telling them how grateful I was.

And then, on the three week anniversary of the murders, I got the phone call that would start the next phase in my life. Kelsi and Jason had gone home the day before and Zeke had arrived that morning with Tony, since Sharpay couldn't get off due to her new show's rehearsals.

At the time of the call, Zeke had been cooking one of his famous dishes while his son helped him out by getting ingredients as I watched longingly. Oh, how I wished I could've had the privilege of doing that with my daughter!

The phone rang and I answered it, immediately recognizing the Australian accent on the other line. "Hello, is this Troy Bolton?"

"Christina Martin?" I asked, stunned.

"Yes, it's me," she said. She sounded uncomfortable and nervous.

"Um, how'd you get this number?" I inquired her, when she didn't speak.

She cleared her throat. "They gave it to me from the station. I told them I needed to speak to you about your wife and daughter."

"What?" I snapped. "Do you know something?"

"Yes," she said, her voice quiet. I pressed the phone closely to my ear to hear her better. "Bailey's out right now, so I have to make this quick – if he comes home and finds me-," She started to sound hysterical.

"Shh, shh, Miss Martin, please, calm down," I said quietly. "Please, just tell me what you know."

"Okay," Christina took a deep breath before plowing on. "You see, I knew something was up by the way Bailey was talking to you. And then he lied – he loves to golf and he definitely knew about your wife and daughter, because I've watched every single report on them. Now that I think about it, I don't know how I didn't recognize you. But anyway," the woman sounded extremely flustered. "When you guys left I asked me why he lied but he wouldn't tell me. I pestered him about if for about a week before he told me."

"What did you tell you?" I asked urgently.

"Everything," she said softly.

I was about to open my mouth and encourage more out of her, but before I could say anything I heard a door slam on the other end of the line. "Hey, Chrissy, I'm back."

"Oh, hey Bailey!" she called, and I could detect the faint note of fear in her voice.

"Who are you on the phone with?" I heard the man ask, sounding like he was near Christina.

"Oh, um, just Jessie," said Christina hurriedly. "Hey, Jessie?" She said into the phone. "Sorry, I gotta go. How about I, um, come over to your house tomorrow?"

"Sure," I said, immensely disappointed that I still didn't know what Bailey told Christina, but excited to know that I was going to find out the next day.

"See you later!" said Christina perkily before hanging up.

I slowly set the phone down on the receiver. "What was that?" asked Zeke, causing me to jump. I'd forgotten he was there.

I turned to see him staring intently at me, his son slowly mixing the batter of Zeke's complicated recipe, his tongue between his teeth with intense concentration. "Remember I told you about Bailey Martin?"

Zeke perked up. "Did they finally arrest him?"

I shook my head. "No, that was his sister. She called and said that she knew Bailey was lying and he told her 'everything.'"

"What's everything?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Bailey came home before she could finish explaining. But she's coming over tomorrow."

"When?"

I shrugged again.

"Does she know where you live?"

I shook my head. "No, but she can probably find out from the police station."

Sure enough, the next day around five p.m., Captain Simpson called and told me that Christina Martin wanted my address. He said that she wouldn't tell him why. I instructed him to give it to her and that I would explain why as soon as I could.

So at around 5:15, Christina arrived just as Zeke, Caleb, and I were finishing dinner. Christina glanced awkwardly at Zeke when she walked inside before saying, "Oh, I, uh, didn't know you had company."

I glanced at Zeke pointedly. "Oh, well, I was just, um, gonna bathe my son," he said quickly. "Don't mind me." Zeke slung his son over his shoulder and tickled him as they walked upstairs to the bathroom.

Christina and I sat down on my couch. After declining refreshments, I got straight to the point. "What did you mean, Bailey told you 'everything'?"

She took a deep breath and swallowed before answering. "Well, he basically... confessed to me."

"Confessed what to you?" I urged.

"The murder... on your wife and daughter," she whispered.

There was a long silence, broken by me when I said, my throat tight, "Well, go on. Please, tell me everything."

She took another deep breath before explaining, "Bailey is a little unstable, to start off. As a child, he was particularly violent and my parents didn't want to treat it for fear that he was be labelled 'insane.' My parents were very worried about what other people thought of us."

"How was he violent?" I asked, perplexed.

Christina sighed. "Well, other children always picked on him, and after it would build up for a while he'd hit other kids. Our parents always were able to wrangle him out of suspension, until one incident in junior high where he punched a girl in the stomach for turning him down."

My mouth fell open in shock and horror.

She nodded glumly. "Yes, it was pretty terrible. After that my parents took him out of school and hired a private tutor for him. Shortly after I graduated school and he received his GED, our parents died. This was five years ago, and right afterwards we moved here from Australia. Bailey got a job at the local Wal-Mart and I went to university on my parents inheritance money. I graduated last year and have been working as an Administrative Assistant for about a year now. Life seemed normal to me. I thought we were finally happy." She stopped, taking a deep, shaking breath.

"Christina," I leaned forward and rested my hand on her knee. She looked in my eyes, and I saw fear. "Christina, you have to tell me. This is my wife and daughter. If your brother killed them, I need to know."

She let out a small cry. "But, it's just – he's my brother!" she wailed. "I don't want him to get into trouble!"

"Is that really what's bothering you?" I asked skeptically. "Or are you afraid of what he'll do to you?"

Christina shot him a look. "I'm not afraid!" she said a little too quickly, her voice squeaking. I remember raising my eyebrows at her before she relented. "Well, okay, yes. But you'd be mad too if your own sister blabbed about you murdering someone, wouldn't you?"

I shrugged. "Well, I don't have a sister. However, I do have friends who are like sisters to me and even if I could murder someone, I wouldn't want to put them in that position."

She was silent.

"Christina, please, tell me. If you tell me, we can go to the police and Bailey will be arrested. He won't be able to do anything to you. And if you're still worried police officers will protect you. But I need to know this. One of the things that's tearing me up inside is not knowing who could do this awful thing to my two biggest loves, and you have the answer." I pleaded at her with my eyes.

She closed her eyes, took yet another deep breath, before giving in. "He told me that he saw your wife at the grocery store a few days before the murder. He didn't know he was your wife. He asked her out and she turned him down, but he didn't know that it was because she was married. It was too much for him. He had never had a girlfriend before and your wife turning him down was the last straw, I guess." Christina opened her eyes, tears pouring down. "I went to the movies with my girlfriend the night of the murder. He explained to me that he'd followed your wife home after seeing her at the store, so he drove there that night with his golf club. He told me he wasn't intending on hurting her, he just wanted to 'threaten her' into going out with him," Christina continued, using air-quotes. She shook her head miserably. She hiccuped from the crying. "He said that if she wasn't home he was going to wait for her and surprise her. But she was there... he found her upstairs changing your daughter's diaper."

My throat constricted and I broke out into a sweat. My eyes filled up with tears; I was finally about to find out exactly what happened that night.

Christina spoke with a squeak. "Bailey said he held the golf club like a bat and made her go into the master bedroom. He kept telling her to put the baby down but she wouldn't let go. He started to wrestle your daughter from her. She was screaming and trying to kick him. But he got Isabella away first... and threw her against the wall."

I gagged in horror. Gulping, I reached next to me for the empty living room trash can, just in case.

"The baby fell on the bed and your wife freaked out. She was screaming and crying and hitting my brother, trying to get him out of her way, probably so she could get to her baby. But my brother started to hit her and beat her with the golf club... the baby was screaming... He told me he beat your wife for about five minutes before she fell unconscious... then he stripped off all of her clothes and raped her..."

I couldn't take it. I leaned over and threw up in the trash can. I'd vomited so much within the past few weeks that some people would probably think I had an eating disorder.

Christina jumped up and cried, "Oh, my gosh, are you okay?"

I nodded weakly; my hands and face were clammy with cold sweat but I still opened my mouth to tell her, "Keep going."

"Are you sure?" she asked nervously.

I nodded again.

"Well, okay..." She sat back down. "And then, he said he hadn't been planning on killing the baby except it wouldn't stop crying... so he started to beat her too... he said her raped her and even put him in her mouth to try and muffle her cries..." She let out a sob and I threw up again. She stopped her story and said, "Are you sure you're okay?"

I spit into the trash can and said hoarsely, "Yes, just ignore me. Keep going."

She let out a shaky breath and another tear trickled down her face. "He said he hit her longer because it took forever for her to stop crying. Finally she stopped crying and he freaked out and left. He wasn't sure if they were dead or not until he saw it on the news later that night."

Wiping my mouth on the back of my hand, I said, "Gabriella wasn't dead when he left. She was still alive and she crawled over to be with Isabella before she died. Instead of calling 911, she wrote me a note that said 'I love you Troy.'"

Christina clapped a hand to her mouth and tears started to pour out of her eyes. "Troy, I am so, so-,"

I shook my head. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Bailey should be sorry. I'm glad you told me. Now, you just have to tell the police-,"

"No!" she shrieked, jumping up again. I gave her a look before standing up slowly as well.

"What?"

"No, I can't tell them!" she cried hysterically.

"And why not?" I asked angrily.

"Because then Bailey will know I told!"

I sighed irritably. "It won't matter, because he'll be in jail and he won't be getting out."

"How do you know?" she shouted.

"How would he get out?" I roared. "No one's going to pay the bail! We have DNA evidence against him! We have your word against him! What more do you need?"

"The murder weapon!" Christina countered. "We need the murder weapon!"

I paused, knowing she was right. So I asked her, "Do you know where it is?"

She nodded slowly. "He told me he hid it under his bed. It's under a blanket."

I walked towards Christina and put my hands on her shoulders. "Christina, I need you to get that golf club for me. I need it. Your brother has to pay for what he did. He may never forgive you, but how would you feel in thirty years knowing you'd kept this horrible secret?"

She didn't answer, because she knew I was right.

"Please, Christina. Bring the murder weapon to the police and tell them everything you told me. Then Bailey will be brought to justice for murdering my family."