“What have you got there, Agnes?” Christine’s mother, Sarah, asked nervously, like a child trick-or-treating: they want the sweets but don’t know how truly horrifying the mask behind the door will be.
“A diary entry. I think it’s Christine’s.” Agnes replied; her mask was frozen, eyes still and holding back a pool of tears.
Sarah snatched the paper and read it hurriedly.
Anything to find her child.
“She said something was moving in the garden. Do you think someone kidnapped my girl?”
“It’s possible. But more likely Christine snuck out, partied too hard, and got lost on the way back.” Daniel, their police officer, assured.
“But Christine’s not like that.” Michael mumbled, the father. His mask was denial. “Her mother and I were working the night, so I trusted her to stay home alone. And if she went partying, Agnes would have gone too.”
Agnes unfroze, tears now staining her mask. “It’s true. I’m her best friend. She’d never just disappear.”
“Does this diary entry help?” Sarah said desperately.
“Give it here.” Daniel ordered. “Because it’s still early days, we will search around the house for more information. Text messages, fingerprints, things missing from cupboards. Agreed?”
“As long as she’s found.”
Michael hugged Sarah tightly.
“I’ll go up to her room.” Agnes muttered solemnly, her eyes were swollen and face a deadly pale.
This wasn’t like Christine at all.
Something terrible had happened.
The last time Agnes saw Christine was the day before. They spent hours together laughing about school and boys. The usual.
Christine had mentioned she would be home alone but wasn’t concerned.
I mean who would be? New Year’s Eve was a day for celebration, not abduction.
Daniel, Michael, and Sarah trudged outside in the cold, Winter air. Leaves crunched under their feet; green, red, purple.
Behind the smell of nature, was a sickening, thick odour that explored Sarah’s nose first.
Daniel saw it – a dead cat.
“Whiskers!” Michael cried, reaching to stroke its head but hesitating at the dried blood.
“Been dead for approximately 15 hours.” Daniel said, examining the body.
Sarah was heaving.
“I can’t look!” She sobbed, between gags.
“Was stabbed to death.” Daniel continued.
Sarah threw up her cornflakes.
“Serious wounds in head and neck.”
And her orange juice.
“Come on Sarah – let’s go inside.” Michael grabbed her hand and dragged her to the back door that led into the kitchen.
‘Who would do such a thing?’ Daniel thought, adjusting his officer badge.
He carried on searching the garden alone and found the oak tree Christine described, and the bushes, but nothing else.
Nothing. Until he went back to the kitchen and discovered a missing knife.
“DANIEL! COME QUICK!”
The police officer looked away from the kitchen island and ran to the living room.
Sarah was on the floor, weeping, and Michael had his face in his hands.
The news was broadcasting on the television.
“A 14-year-old girl, Christine Davidson, was found washed up on the beach this morning, dead, her arms, legs and stomach cut open and left eye taken from its socket. Police are still searching for the brutal killer who- “
Daniel switched the television off and blocked out Sarah’s cries.
“MY BABY! WHO DID THIS? I WILL KILL THEM I SWEAR! MY BABY!”
Michael cradled his wife in his arms, and Daniel crept upstairs.
‘They needed space.’ He thought.
He peeked into Christine’s room and found Agnes eating a sandwich, so he sat down next to her.
She passed him a slice and he took a large bite, even though it tasted weird.
“What’s in this?”
“I can’t believe she’s dead.” Agnes whispered, ignoring his question. Another tear rolled down her cheek.
They sat there in silence for a couple of minutes, eating, until Agnes announced she felt sick and had to go home.
She got up and trudged downstairs, soon leaving the house entirely.
Daniel lay with his thoughts, alone, looking around Christine’s pink bedroom that consisted of fairy lights and makeup.
Daniel thought of a world where Christine did go to a party, got ready with the makeup that lay on the floor and came back the morning after, hungover.
But Daniel knew this was a false reality in his mind: Christine was dead, and her body was rotting away, as was the family’s sanity.
Although worst of all was Agnes. Her best friend had been brutally murdered and cut up into a million pieces. Now she had no one.
‘Wait.’ He realised, as if waking up from a dream. ‘How did Agnes know Christine was dead?’
*AN ENTRY FROM AGNES’ DIARY*
I’ve been waiting for this day my entire life…
Finally, Christine will receive the pain she deserves, and I will watch and laugh and lick the blood off my hands.
She is evil. The evilest person I know and no being from Hell should be allowed to stay here – in fact I’m doing the world a favour!
Why should she be allowed such wonderful parents? How dare she be ungrateful for them when I have none? She laughed when I fell and chuckled when I lost; I should have killed her years ago.
She shall die tonight, and no one will stop me. I will get her stupid, perfect life and smile smugly as she watches me from below.
And I shall kill her cat too.
Whiskers never liked me anyway.
“The 14-year-old psychopath, Agnes Smith, responsible for murdering Christine Davidson, is still yet to be found. Police are searching for- “
Daniel paused the television. Something was moving in the garden…