Beneath the Gilded

Chapter 4

I knew she was dead as soon as I saw her.

Really. How cliche could this get? A body in a cellar. I mean, if my life was a book, I would roll my eyes at the author. On top of a less-than-fantabulous day, finding Sophia Lancaster's body in the cellar of Auntie Em's, where she wouldn't dare step foot in with fear of dirtying her million-dollar outfit(whoever put her body there had a sense of humor), just drew it for me. Seriously, the author truly has no sympathy.

Sophia Lancaster. The first child of Matthew Lancaster, and therefore, of course, the sister of Dean Lancaster. Six years older than Dean, who was a junior, so she was twenty-two. The typical heiress and socialite, carrying designer bags worth my entire closet and a I'm-too-good-for-this-world attitude. She appeared on magazines as one of the most eligible bachelorettes in California or top one hundred wealthiest women under the age of thirty. She was a Lancaster, and therefore her life was public knowledge. It had seemed like she was too snobby, too superior, too elite, too Lancaster for death. I had never actually met her in person, which was something I was relieved about. But lying there on the ground, none of those things about her mattered.

Her dull lifeless eyes bored into mine, almost accusingly, as I screamed, covering my mouth. She lay face-up almost at the front of the door, her arms spread at both sides, and her feet together. Her feet were toward me. I couldn't stop staring at her body. Unlike the bloody incapacitated victims in the movies that Emily had forced Evan and me to watch, there really wasn't anything dramatic or gruesome about the body. It was almost like she was sleeping. Her mouth was slightly open. If you ignored the bruises the shape of fingers that surrounded her neck.

I was shaking. The horror, the fear consumed me. This was like something out of a horror movie. This wasn't something I would ever see in real life. But I have. I felt sick.

Most of all, all I could think of was that I had joked about killing someone the very same day.

All of my instincts told me to run. To get away as far from the gruesome sight as possible. I somehow stumbled up the stairs, my back turned from the horror as I searched desperately in my pocket for my ancient Blackberry. I can't remember how I got to my car. But I did.

I succeeded in putting the key in at my third try because my hands were shaking like there was an earthquake or something. I sped away at a speed breaking the speed limits by about 30 mph, and dialed 911 on my phone.

"This is 911, what is your emergency?" the cool female voice inquired, her calm voice contrasting with my beating heart.

"Th-there's- Sophia Lancaster- cellar-" I couldn't speak coherently.

"Take a deep breath, miss. Calm down." The voice was now sympathetic, concerned.

I steeled myself. I needed to do this.

"I found Sophia Lancaster's body in the cellar of Auntie Em's."

It was ridiculous, how simple that sentence was.

"We'll be there in five minutes," the female voice stated, still calm. "What's your name and what were you doing when you found her?"

"Irene Lee. I work there as a waitress and I was locking up when I..."

I didn't finish that sentence, and I didn't have to.

"Great," she said. It was anything but great. "Thank you for your report." The line went dead. Simultaneously, I reached my house. I lived in a small two-bedroom apartment with barely enough room to house my mom and I, but it was still home, familiar and safe. I felt like all the tension in my body just melted away. All I wanted to do was to jump in my mother's arms like I was still three, but I knew she would be at work.