The Paul sister x KSI [Finished]

Final Part.

"God dammit, Addison, I didn't ask for your life story- I ASKED FOR YOUR HISTORY WITH HIM!" 

Being sat in a room for investigation- hand cuffed to table, three men watching her every move, and countless security men and news reporters outside the facility- was not how Addison Rae Paul saw her December of 2025 going. 

It isn't my fault
It isn't my fault
It isn't my fault

The voices in her head repeated like a broken symphony. Her life too, had become a broken symphony- what was all once beauty, happiness and laughter had been broken by the Paul brothers' schemes, her addiction to what she shouldn't have been victim to, and the death.

The death of Olajide Olatunji.

Addison 'didn't' kill JJ, she swore upon it.
But if only she'd been better with sticking to one singular story, maybe she would not be in an investigation room, sat parallel to a two-way mirror and holding the weight of a possible prison sentence, on her shoulders.

"Addison."

The voice broke her thoughts.

The voice belonged to a man in his mid-thirties, drawn tall like a strange sky scraper- ego pushing the ceiling as if he were waiting for the opportunity to end it all- pull out any information which could finalise Addison's guilt in this mess, and finally put her on trial which she 'deserves'. 

"Let's just cut the crap. Why did you kill him."

"I didn't kill him."

Her voice was raspy. Like sandpaper has been dragged through her throat for the years that she had vanished off of the media. All to come back to a shit storm of accusations which she didn't deserve. 

"Yes, you did."

"It was a suicide."

Her story didn't make sense.
Which genius, millionaire, playboy, philanthropist in their right mind kills themselves?

"Then can you re-explain where you were during his death- that is, 18th December, 2023, at 5:29pm."

"At our house."

"Doing what exactly."

"Drinking."

"Please explain how this 'suicide' of JJ consuming poison whilst drinking, wasn't related to yourself drinking at the same time."

"We were in different rooms."

The detective sucked his cheeks and bit his lip in frustration at the insolent girl in front of him. She was a real piece of work. Or at least she had become.

Oh, what everyone would do to get the old Addison back.

The Addison with long, blonde hair and contagious smile- who bounced with each step and laughed like a child at the simplest jokes. The Addison who was alive.

She had become practically a walking corpse.

"How did you know it was a suicide and not an attempted murder by a hypothetical someone else, considering you weren't there during this 'Suicide'."

"Nobody could've entered."

She may have thought of herself innocent- but she didn't want to allow anyone else to be victim of punishment which... she had done...? Had she done it? Was it her or not?

"How do you know?"

Addison didn't think as she next responded. Everything she said was lies. She didn't care if they didn't add up. She couldn't do this anymore. The guilt was so overpowering... It was the feeling of guilt though, right...?