I Know Who Killed Me

In the night I died was not a cloud in the sky. It was amazing, really. From my place in heaven, I returned that night just for the scenery. It was the only thing during the most beautiful all my pain. The last thing I saw were the distant stars shining brilliantly in front of me, embroidered in black velvet and there as if by magic. I think the good fortune to know the last thing my bones, brown eye witnesses were beautiful pieces of silver. During my seventeen years of life, and even after death, I've always loved the stars. As a child, my parents were always able to find me flat on my back on the roof of our house. On clear nights, it was where I can always be found. My favorite aunt, Elise, bought me a telescope for my eleventh birthday after neighbors started complaining, always say that the sky would bring my death. They were wrong, of course. The stars only comforted me, as I lay dying in the Backwoods of Tennessee, in the hands of someone I would like my whole life are known and which I thought I might trust. He was nineteen with wonderfully demonic Properties luxuriant black curls, amazing bone structure, deep blue eyes, leading to each and every one of my friends about him to impotence. Evan never really serious with everyone, though. I mean, he has only the one-night stand thing. All the girls in the town knew it but none of them ever denied that boy a kiss. The physical activity rather escalates from there. I never knew why the night before I was murdered.

It was shortly after midnight and I was in my room, stargazing. Mom and Dad sleep in and Evan was down in the kitchen, searching through the refrigerator. I jumped and banged my elbow on the desk oak beside me when he knocked on my bedroom door. I had not even heard Evan climb the stairs at night. I smiled tired, as his body was blocking my view corridor. His hands found their way into the front pocket of his jeans, before he spoke.

"Kel, hey, you tired?"

I shook my head, so he for a moment, to my telescope.

"no. Why?"

My best friend smiled, his hoarse voice still ringing in my ears.

"want, together with me to the" Kwik Stop? "I need milk for my Cocoa Puffs."

I could not help but laugh as I ran a hand through my blunt, straight, brown hair.

"You serious?"

He threw me a pleading look, to say everything he needed at this moment.

I got from my chair and then moved the telescope to its original position next to my white vanity table. Walking back across the room, I slipped on my favorite gray sweatshirt, with my initials, KW , sewn into the sleeve, and my bedroom window, pulls the curtains closed. Evan was down and waited in his rusty red pick-up truck pulled while I was on my dirty sneakers. Like every other teenage girls, I could not help, but not before the mirror and take a look at me. I was never much to note in particular. Sighing, Erdballen my hair in my fist and then released. The pressure, even if only a few seconds duration, goose bumps at the joy my spine. My skin was pale as the moonlight, and if I ever want for Tan, I like my dark eyes seemed more exposed. I have a comb through my hair quickly and bolted down, still as calm as I could so that my parents are not. Outside the night air was fresh and refreshing, so that all thoughts of sleep, breed from my eyes as I locked the door and hopped into the passenger seat of the truck. He grinned at me as I buckled the strap over my chest and the heating off, preffering scroll the window. We draw from the drive and headed down the street. The car was filled with silence, Evan neither I nor the choice to speak. What the radio was not an option for the two of us. Sitting quietly together was always comfortable, even back when we only small children. It came naturally. I looked away from the thin trees, up to grab us and smiled at him. He responded by it on the seat and pressing his hand once. I knew that this public display of affection every so often was the reason why the inhabitants of the suspicions we had something more than friendship, but I have Evan in this light, not just once. We were just friends, but nobody buys that? My eyes found the mangled trees again, my head thudding softly against the head restraint. The soothing breeze was my lullaby as I slowly slipped into sleep, mind, consciousness still struggling as a body won.

I awoke slowly, feeling stiff and unrested. I tried to move but only felt a searing pain in my finger tips. I was not able to see why.

"Evan?"

My voice was hoarse from burning my throat, as they escape. I tried again.

"Evan?"

No answer.

The ground under me was soft and slightly damp. I could feel the humidity slowly seep through my clothes, as I fought for the provision and fought against the pain. I listened for a moment, my breath ragged with the attempt. That's when I heard the heavy steps.

"Help, somebody!"

To my own ears, I heard like a banshee, but a shadow approaching now, and I must confess I am a smile. Within seconds, a grinning face stood before me. Evan. He seemed to please, but I just do not understand why.

"Ev! Ev, help me!"

The burn remained raw in my throat.

Evan shook his head, it seems his flashlight in my body, now fully smiling. I gasped as my eyes in the scene before me, I was tied up in the middle of a desolate area with only the light from the flashlight rather loosely in the hand and the sky. I was in the dirt. Two, quite the size of the dry ice blocks were obliged to my fingertips, burning fingerprints away slowly, surely, and agonizing. Tears filled my eyes when I came to the realization of what was going on. I knew I wanted to die. Evan knelt beside me.

"Why?" I asked.

"I love you, Kelly Williams," he said.

"Evan ..."

followed my voice off, tears staining my cheeks. He leaned over me then, his lips brush them away. He kissed both cheeks dry, moved up to my forehead, back to my eyelids, and finally, to my lips. It was deeply and passionately, tenderly, yet comforting and yes, I kissed back. Nobody has ever denied that boy a kiss. He moved smoothly, licks his lips.

"Do You Love Me?"

A sob caught in my throat as I shook his head slowly to the left then right, then suddenly be regretting kissing. His expression was somber for a moment before he drew his hunting knife ...

I was found, seventeen days later in this area, just take my gray sweatshirt and wrapped in my own blood. Fingerprints of the past, my corpse they identified with the initials of my mother sewed into the sleeve of my sweatshirt. The funeral was a closed coffin, my still disturbing to the family members. My murderer never at the service, he left town soon after the proclamation of his love for me and was never caught. Not even suspected. He was my best friend. That night, as cold steel against my soft skin and my throat was tired of crying, I learned to my last life lesson: You never really know someone, no matter what you think.

 

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