❝I had a conversation with Death, he wants you back ❞
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At the New Year's Eve party, Quincy Sinclair finds the dead body of Alfred Kingsley III. Resident golden boy and incredibly rich, his death was no accident.
By morning, Quincy sees him again...
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My whole body had lit aflame. There was no controlling my actions or feelings anymore. Nothing was quiet, the wind had picked up within my room and the temperature plummeted dangerously. My body racked with nerves or the cold, I wasn't sure.
Maybe the stare that Kingsley had set upon me was what caused the trembling. I couldn't describe it. His facial expression didn't stop changing, not even for a moment. Blanketed by confusion, anger, hurt; his face was a canvas for the crimes I had committed.
"You killed me?" His voice broke. Kingsley stood from his place at the end of my bed and I took an effective step back. I was cowering before him, my heart lodged in my throat.
"I- I could have stopped it. And- and i-...it's all my fault," I sobbed, hugging myself close.
"Why didn't you tell me?" He whispered.
"I thought that if we got enough evidence to convict s-someone else then it would trick Death. I-I didn't want it to be true," I stuttered pathetically. I only ever got this vulnerable when it came to Kingsley.
"Why would you do this to me, Quincy!" He demanded, his voice was loud and echoed around the room. He wasn't a boy anymore while glowing eerily bright before me.
"It was Charlie! He stabbed you," I began. I glanced down at the writing on my wrist, Alfred Kingsley. This was real. I couldn't believe I was ratting him out. "He- he's ill, Kingsley. He said that he thought you were trying to steal stuff from him, he was high and paranoid and so, so ill."
He furrowed his eyebrows while frowning deeply. "Then you didn't kill me?" He asked softly. Kingsley was confused, so was I.
"It was New Year's Eve, at Charlie's party. I- I didn't want to be downstairs anymore so I stumbled my way to one of the house's many bedrooms. I didn't mean to pick that one, I wish I didn't. But I did and you were there - so was Charlie. He looked so bad. His eyes were bright red, hair all over the place, clothes ripped up and the bags under his eyes were worse than mine. As soon as I opened the door, he jumped up and threw it closed behind me, locking us all in. I didn't know what was going on but then I looked down and saw blood all over him and he was frantic," I explained. My voice was foreign as I stumbled over the words but Kingsley listened, his light growing darker with every confession.
"When he saw me, it was like he clicked back to his normal self. He was so scared, said something about how they told him to do it and he couldn't look back at your body. He begged me not to tell anyone and said that because he was my brother, we were all each other had. H-he told me that I couldn't trust my mum and that my dad wasn't even my real dad and that I only had Charlie left in my life. And I believed him."
Kingsley took a sharp intake of air and stepped forward towards me. I stepped back again. I couldn't touch him, not now. Not when my mind was taking me back to that night. I could see his body in the corner of my vision as he slowly bled out. The pent up guilt had eaten me up inside, destroying me from the inside out.
