Tattoo || m.c.

73

Michael rushed through the bars blocking the people and ducked under the tape. Her mother stood with a box of tissues in her hand and words rushed to the police officer next to her. Tears streamed her red face as they brought out the black bag on the gurney.

Michael stopped breathing, he stared at his girlfriend's dead body as she was pushed into a vehicle. Time stopped and everything turned silent. Mars was dead.

Dead. She couldn't be dead though, it had to be the kidnapper. It had to be a random stranger, it had to be anybody else but her. Mars didn't deserve this. She would never put this on herself, would she? Did he even really know her that well?

Of course, he did. His doubt wasn't truthful. Michael knew Mars better than he knew himself. He walked up slowly to Ms. Jenkins.

"Oh sweetie," She whispered shaking her head, "She's gone. My baby girl is gone."

He shook his head refusing to take in the fact, "No, no she isn't. That was the kidnapper right? She killed him and she is just hiding somewhere. In the bushes, in a closet, she has to be somewhere!"

"Mars killed herself, Michael. She wrote a note for me, you, and your friends," Her sorrows painfully attatched to her voice before handing over the letter to Calum. He slowly turned it over in his hands, a few of his own tears stinging onto the paper, "I already read my part. Please pay attention to yours. I am so sorry."

She wiped the rest of her face before going into her room and gathering up her boxes again. A dazed woman who had just lost her child wasn't in the right state as she packed up her things to leave this house. She didn't care if anybody would buy it. She wanted to be gone and she wanted all of this to be over. Mars room was left open but her mother couldn't bear giving even the slightest glance towards it.

I have failed myself, my husband, and my daughter. Oh, what has God thought of me yet?