They interviewed her parents too.
After she died.
Her father, ashen-faced.
Dressed in a hoodie.
Abercrombie and Fitch was scrawled on it, in white script.
His t-shirt - white - was tucked into jeans.
You could see the cigarette burns on them.
Her mother.
Hair pulled back in a ponytail.
Held by a Monsoon scrunchie.
She had a childs' frame, modelling a vintage cheesecloth blouse.
Tight, ripped jeans.
Nike shoes.
How do you feel?
The policeman retrieved a clipboard from his jacket pocket.
Her father burst into tears.
The mother looked uncomfortable.
Placed an awkward arm around him.
Smiled, the corners of her mouth turned up slightly.
The tears welled in her eyes.
What was the cause of her death, according to you?
Poison.
The conviction in her eyes made him shiver.
That's quite the conclusion to jump to, ma'am. Is there any reason why?
She looks at her husband, eyes aflame.
Yes.
⁂⁂⁂
The teachers worried about Annie.
Always asked her if she was OK.
In the corridors, they whispered to each other.
Said she was damaged.
It's because of the father.
They nudged each other.
They always knew nothing good would come out of it.
Come out of this one life.
They'd almost forgotten her real name, come to think of it.
They had to strain to remember it.
Their eyes looked confused when they read the name on the register.
Didn't recognise it.
Annabelle Murray.
CZYTASZ
Birdy
Tajemnica / ThrillerThere's a girl who lives in London. Nobody knows her name. She just walks up and down the streets, her hood pulled up over her eyes. Some say that she's a witch. Others say that she was in a bad accident, leaving her mute and blind. Some say she...
