Killing Callie

Aiden's Story

 ©2012 Copyright All Rights Reserved

September 4, 2012 – 4:45 PM

     “Well,” Officer Reynolds clapped his hands together, “I think we all know why we’re here, correct?” The four teenagers didn’t respond. They stared blankly at their laps, still in shock of what had happened. Officer Reynolds sighed, “Look guys, I know this is all…sudden…but we need to know when you last saw her, ok?”

     The girl with the wavy brown hair picked up her head and spoke up first; her hazel eyes full of unshed tears and disbelief, “I saw her last night. It was around eight.”

     Officer Reynolds sighed, “Emma, I already told you: Callie’s body was found at eight-fifteen. She had already been dead for about ten minutes, and her mother said she was at home the entire time. She never left to go see you.”

     Emma shook her head violently, her brown hair flopping furiously with each shake. “No!” she shouted, “I saw her! I swear, she came to my house around eight in the evening!” Officer Reynolds held up a hand.

     “Please, Emma. You were probably just dreaming. Let’s just go around the table, alright?” Emma’s gaze fell back into her lap as her head dropped in defeat. She wasn’t telling a lie. She did see Callie. Didn’t she?

     “Ms. Thompson was found dead last night in the driveway of her home. She had obviously been struck in the head and her killer left duct tape over her mouth with the word “Joker” written on it in black Sharpie.” The police officer looked at each of the four teenagers as he re-stated the police report from memory. They didn’t react aside from the vague flinch when the word ‘dead’ was mentioned.

     Officer Reynolds knew none of these kids killed their friend. Their parents had stated themselves that they were all at home when Callie was killed, and they never conversed with anyone else besides Callie and each other. They didn’t have other connections. So the possibility of them working with another person wasn’t plausible.

     Officer Reynolds turned to the brown-haired boy on his left. His fingers tapped nervously at the edge of the table and his eyes were wide. “We can start with you,” Reynolds said, and the boy picked up his head and looked at him with a vacant stare, “you’re Aiden, correct?”

     “Yes.” The boy muttered, and he took in a deep breath. This wasn’t real, was it? How could Callie be dead? And what did “Joker” mean? Aiden looked to his other friends for comfort, but found none. Madison sat to his left, her head bowed and her arms hugging her body. Toby sat next to her with his eyes staring at the white surface of the plastic table, gazing with an intensity that left Aiden uneasy. Emma was right across from him with her head in her hands. They were all in shock.

     “Do you want to begin?” Officer Reynolds asked, pulling Aiden from his thoughts. He had a job to do and as much as he wanted to feel empathy for these kids, he had to refuse it until he had their stories.

     “Oh, right.” He said, and he clenched his jaw, thinking about his and Callie’s last encounter. “Well,” he began, “the last time I talked to Callie was probably two days ago. We got into this argument over a girl I was dating…”

 

AIDEN – September 2, 2012 – 8:30 PM

     Callie sauntered into the kitchen, and I wasn’t too far behind. “This is all your fault!” I shouted, storming into the kitchen after her. How could she do this to me? How could she ruin a perfectly healthy relationship? She turned around to face me, her auburn curls whipping to the side and then landing gracefully on her shoulders.

     Her plump lips curved into an arrogant smirk, “I only told her the truth, Aiden.” My anger flared and I felt every heated emotion arise.

     “You,” I pointed a finger at her chest, “ruined everything between me and Carly.” Callie cocked an eyebrow.

     “Me? I ruined everything?” Callie narrowed her eyes and snarled, “No you did, Aiden. When you kissed me. Do you remember that? Or will you conveniently forget it?”

     “We never kissed!” I protested, and Callie laughed.

     “Oh yes we did.” She sang. But I knew she was lying. I would never kiss Callie.

     She turned around and opened the refrigerator, shuffling through its contents. “What are you doing?” I asked her, “You can’t just go through my refrigerator without asking permission!” I grabbed her arm and she jerked away, turning her head to stare at me, an icy glare set in her blue eyes.

     “Don’t you dare touch me,” She warned, “or I swear, I’ll convince everyone in town you molested me.” I stepped away, surprised at this vindictive Callie.

     “You wouldn’t dare…they all know I wouldn’t do that…” I looked at her in shock, my mouth slightly agape. Callie placed a manicured hand on my chest and slowly pushed me backwards until I was up against the kitchen island – the coolness of the granite seeping through my shirt, making me shiver. She raised her head slightly with a defiant look on her face.

     “Oh, but I would, Aiden. I would tell everyone in town, starting with the police. Sixteen year old Aiden Fitz molesting his best friend of three years, Callie Thompson. It makes sense considering you’re a teenage boy with raging hormones. And then you could say bye-bye to your life in Ashton Heights.” She took her hand off of me and then continued to search the fridge, making a satisfied noise when she came across a small lemon.

     “What the hell are you doing?” I asked cautiously, wondering what Callie was going to do with a whole lemon. She glanced at me through cold eyes and put the lemon up to her mouth.

     “I’m eating.” She said matter-of-factly, and bit into the lemon rind, taking a small chunk out of the fruit and chewing it in her mouth. My suspicion turned to confusion as I watched the smug girl swallow the bite she had taken and wipe her mouth with a delicate hand. “You know,” she began, “I can be a pretty sour bitch.”

     Callie walked over to a nearby cupboard and opened it up, searching through it for something that was beyond my knowledge. “But…” she said, and pulled out a small tub of white sugar. “If you’re nice and sweet,” she opened up the tub and dipped the exposed part of the lemon in the sugar, “then we shouldn’t have any problems.” Callie bit into the lemon again and swallowed it quickly this time, chewing quietly and gazing into my eyes with a sinister glare.

     “How did you know where we keep our sugar?” I inquired, and Callie just smiled.

     “Lucky guess.” And she took another bite.

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Well this is the first chapter of the 'short story'. This is really a short story mostly because there isn't too much background aside from the flashbacks and it won't be long enough to be a full novel. There are more chapters to come.

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