One Last Attempt

000

On my way home from my last history exam, I couldn't wait to tell Baker that I was sure that I had killed it. After all, he had stayed up all night two days before helping me prep my cue cards. Even though he had an exam the next day. That's just the kind of guy Baker was.

Unfortunately for me, I was greeted by caution tape in front of my apartment building. The road had been blocked off, cops at either end of the street. There was a body bag on the ground, being lifted into the back of an ambulance. All things considered; I wasn't as surprised as I thought I would be. After all, it was finals season, and usually every year somebody took their life. Still, I couldn't believe that it was my building.

For a second, I stopped walking.

However, I didn't want to be the kind of person who gathered around and took photos. There were a couple of people there. One girl, who to this day I still don't know, was crying and talking to the police. When we locked eyes, my feet went numb. It felt like I had been standing there for hours, but also, everything felt like it was happening too quickly.

It was then that I had forgotten about the success of my final exam.

I managed to get in the side entrance of my building. When I say managed, I don't mean that I ducked around the caution tape. Actually, I went out of my way to avoid being any closer to the body than I needed to be. At some point, I walked inside. Apparently. I don't remember moving from the spot I saw the body to the side door.

The elevator took a painfully long time to get to me. I was suddenly aware of how sweaty my palms were, and how dry my mouth was. And I kept staring at my hands like I expected to see blood on them.

At the time, I didn't want to tell Baker what I had seen. We didn't talk about my anxiety even though he was my best friend. Our closeness actually kept me from sharing, because I didn't want to become burdensome. Rather than talk to Baker about the body, I wanted to curl up underneath my weighted blanket and watch some stupid soap opera that my Mum loved because that always helped calm me down.

When the elevator dinged, I remembered my surprise at seeing a cop and a man in a suit standing outside my door. We lived just below the penthouse, on the ninth floor. I thought that they must be beginning to do their rounds, to tell people the news.

"Hello," the constable's voice was lower than I had been expecting. She looked at the man in the suit next to her before she continued. "Which flat is yours?"

I pointed to the one where she stood, because I couldn't find the words to speak.

"You live with Baker Jones?" the man with her asked me.

And I had nodded, because I didn't understand what was going on. Had Baker pushed someone off the balcony? Had he seen what happened and freaked out?

I looked down at my phone for texts from Baker. There were none. "I... I'm sorry. I don't know what this is about."

"We'd like to come inside," the man said.

I had begun to stutter, shoving my trembling my hands in my pockets. "Don't you... don't you need a warrant?"

The man sighed. "We know this may be hard to hear."

And oh, it most definitely was.

***

Welcome to OLA (my little pet name for One Last Attempt). I'm so excited to get this going! I pre-write chapters, so expect around two updates per week. Anyway, I'm in love with this, and I am so excited for you all to meet the cast. Later on, I might make moodboards for them all, just because, but only if people are interested. Who knows?