slender man | m.e.

chapter ☠ 14

pretty sure SM is only gonna be 20 or so chapters. mainly because there's only so many people you can kill. YA feel?

anywhore, sorry im shit at updating!

hope Yall had a great easter and whatnot (:

go check out Arctic Monkeys and July ((((:::

-xox alex

-

Life-and death, really-are so strange. We force our mothers to undergo 9 months of extreme pain just for us to breathe the air of life for, like, 80 years on average. Those years are normally filled with school, some family memories. Maybe some traveling, some tears, some phobias, some laughing, etc. And then it's all taken away from us.

You see, most teenagers fantasize over the idea of death. They believe that their life is pure shit. In reality, they're just wasting their life away. And when the time finally comes that they meet the face of death, they become fearful. They suddenly become regretful of those years they spent drinking or crying away their life, running from the chaos they caused.

It's pathetic, in my opinion.

If you truly believe your life sucks ass, then think again. Each living moment you have on this earth should be a blessing. Whether it's a living hell, or if it's literal heaven.

Most people had life taken from them before they were even able to live it, experience it. Some will never be able to see the wonders of it.

Those who dream of the day that death comes for them, are living their life pathetically and selfishly.

I didn't believe in God, never have. But as I sat in the old church my parents used to drag Nez and I to, I couldn't help but wonder if there was someone up there, controlling everything. I learned in eighth grade science that the nucleus was the control center of every cell. Maybe God was the nucleus of our lives.

He could shut it down, or he could let it flourish. It was totally up to him.

I had never thought of such thing until right now as my friends surrounded me once again for yet another funeral, Alice's funeral. This occasion was becoming much too normal, and that alone frightened me beyond words.

Matt gave me a reassuring squeeze of my hand, smiling softly as the pastor spoke. It was crazy to me that lives could be lost so easily and effortlessly. I had never told anyone what happened between Alice and I the night of her death, and I didn't plan on it. It was a sensitive matter.

Alice was my best friend. She had lost the love of her life, making her turn towards me as her next subject of lust. At least, that's what I told myself.

I didn't want to let myself even fathom the idea that she could've truly loved me the way she said she did. If she did, then her and Micah would've been a complete fraud. It was always Alice and Micah.

When I looked up, sun was shining through the stained glass window of the church. I tried to tell myself that it was Alice, or God looking out for me.

But even I knew that if God was real, he most definately wasn't on my side.

-

I stood outside the church, my thoughts jumbled as Matt held my hand. He conversed with Jack and Claire, who both seemed a little out of it today. Carter was no where to be found- as always.

I desperately wanted to find Liza and just talk to her privately, tell her everything. Even if I didn't want to. I knew I didn't kill Alice but all evidence led back to me.

I found her talking to an older man in a suit, dabbing her eyes with a ratty Kleenex. I pitied her on a level I believed no one else could reach. After all, she had lost her two children all within the span of a few months.

Before I could escape my group of friends, a man approached me. "Albany Hickens?" He asked.

I nodded slowly, unsure of who this man was. "Yes. How can I help you?"

He flashed a smile to me, then to my friends. "Could I speak with you alone?"

I looked to Matt warily, who overprotectively held my hand tighter, his jaw clenched. I looked to his eyes, motioning that I would be alright. He dropped his hand from mine, walking away with Jack and Claire.

"Albany, I've been trying to reach you but you seem to be pretty good about flying under the radar," he told me, his voice smoothe but threatening.

I glanced quickly to see where Matt had gone. "I've been in a time of grieving, sir. Hopefully, you can understand that." My tone was more snappy than I intended.

He nodded slowly, rubbing his five o'clock shadow with his forefinger. He flashed a quick smile, fishing a wallet out of his pocket. "I should've said this sooner, but I'm Detective David Baker."

I shook his hand slowly. "Why are we having this conversation again?"

He didn't seem phased by my rude remarks. "I'd like to take you into questioning over the death of Ms. Alice Carpenter."

It felt as though a ton of bricks had fallen onto me all at once. Everyone believed I had killed her. "I already answered the questions the police had on the night of her death." I swallowed.

"But they've come to a dead end. All possible suspects must be taken back into questioning," he said.

I shifted my weight. I didn't want to go. After all, who really wanted to go to a police station and answer question because they thought you killed your best friend?

"When?"

He checked a rather expensive watch around his wrist. "I could take you to the station now."

I looked back at Matt, who's eyes were already on me. I looked back to Detective Baker. "I suppose. Let me tell my friends."

He nodded. "Take your time."

I ignored this comment and walked towards Matt, a worried expression on his face. "Guys, I have to go back for questioning. They'll most likely call you all back as well."

Claire looked at me warily. "Why?"

"He said they hit a dead end. They can't decipher who actually killed her."

Matt looked to me, his arm brushing mine. "Call me when you're done and I'll come pick you up, alright?"

I nodded as he placed a kiss to my forehead. I returned to Detective Baker, a rather enthusiastic smile on his face, a smile that shouldn't be present at a funeral. "Ready?"

"Is one ever truly ready to be hauled to a police station to answer dozens upon dozens of questions over your best friend's death?" I asked as I climbed into the passenger seat of his Police car.

He shrugged. "You have a point."

We arrived at the police station a few moments later, my palms sweaty. I wasn't sure why I was so nervous. I knew I didn't kill her, nor have I ever even thought of killing someone.

I take that back.

In first grade, I wanted to kill a girl named Macy Morris. She stole my lollipop from my cubby during nap time. The teachers didn't believe me. Of course, she got knocked up our freshman year and got kicked out of school for being caught with drugs. I guess karma really is a bitch.

I walked into the small, white room with a table and two folding chairs, one each side. I took a seat, Detective Baker sitting across from me. He had a clipboard in his hands of what I assumed were the questions he was supposed to ask me.

He cleared his throat, a smile tugging at his lips. "So tell me, Albany. What really happened the night of Alice's death?"