Near-Death Experiences Chapter 6

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Sorry this one took soooo long. Busy, busy, busy. Actually, I've had a cold lately, so that's part of it. And I've had something going on basically every night this week. So... 13 fans... 102 votes??!! I <3 u people! Anyways, if you haven't read this, make sure you start with the prolouge. It'll make so much more sense that way. :D After you read this make sure you tell me what you think about the thing that I did at the end (the flashback) cause I have no idea where I'm really going with it. So yeah, it's a mystery to me and you. So... peace, love, happy holidays, and all that crap. If you like it, comment. If you don't like it, still comment. I want to know what needs to improve. Vote... comment... become a fan... read... ENJOY!!!! Thanx! <3


"Um..." I stalled. "Nope. Never seen him. Why, who is he?"

"Name's Blake Karson. He's wanted in four different states and there's been reports of a man around here who looks just like 'em."

"Huh. Well I've never seen him before." I didn't want to give myself away so I decided to pretend to be interested in Blake. "So what did he do? He sure doesn't look dangerous. He's kind of hot for a criminal." I said trying to sound nonchalant.

"You seem a little young to be caring whether somebody is hot or not."

"I'm sixteen." This guys just a little old-fashioned.

"Still." He grumbled.

I changed the subject. "So what'd he do?"

"He's wanted for murder in California, Texas, and Kentucky. We almost had him last spring when somebody saw him run into this place somewhere around here. Oh, what was it called? Hm, let's see, oh yeah, that dance club place. There was a party last year and some kid called down at the station and reported a murder, but when we got down there nobody was there except for a kid lying dead on the ground. I could've sworn, though, I saw someone go in there just as I was, but nobody was around when I checked. We looked all over for evidence. There was none of that either. I mean, there was, but it didn't point at Blake Karson. It didn't really point anywhere. With that case, we are sadly at a dead end."

"Wow. I'll tell my mom to triple-check the locks from now on. How do you know that Blake was the one who murdered these people?"

"DNA." He answered simply. Well, I can't get Blake out of this one... "Anyways," he raised a suspicious eyebrow. "If you're sure that that is all you can tell me, then I'll be going. Unless... there is something that you need to share."

"Nope." I said. "Absolutely nothing. Why would there be? I'll, um, make sure that nobody messes with the evidence."

The man nodded while he glared at me. "Good day, ma'am." Then the man turned and trotted out towards his truck. As he drove out of our driveway I could feel his gaze staring into me and I knew that he was suspicious. With one final glare, the notepad man turned the corner in his tinted-window van.

After he was finally out of sight I decided that I wanted to be the one who got to mess with the evidence. I had to clean it up. If the FBI came back to find Blake's DNA the notepad man would know I lied and I'd probably turn into an accomplice to the crime.

That is, of course, if my mother decided to press charges against me... That would be interesting.

I grabbed a mop, a broom, some bleach, and a bunch of other crap that I could use to get blood stains out, and headed to the crime scene. I already had everything planned out. I was going to tell the people that came to look for evidence that maid didn't know anything about the crime and just assumed that Kayla and I got into a fight. So she cleaned it up.

Some of the stains were really set on turning my life into hell. They wouldn't go away no matter how hard I scrubbed. They had to, though, because I wasn't sure which stains were Blake's and which were Kayla's. Finally I got the toughest one out and after that things went pretty smoothly. I got the carpet half of the storage room all destained and vacuumed, and the tile half mopped and scrubbed and polished. By the time that was all over with, I was starving. I hadn't eaten since breakfast and it was already 5:30. Mom hadn't called, which was good. With her, no news is good news.

Now I had two choices, either scrub the blood off the walls now, or wait until later. It'd be safer to do it now, just in case the FBI or something came, but I was starving. Just to be on the safe side, though, I grabbed my cell phone, which was on silent, and opened it so I could order pizza.

When I opened it, though, there was a message.

One missed call from 'Blake'

I remembered the last time I'd gotten that same message.


One missed call from 'Blake'

That was what my phone said when I opened it to check for texts after I was done with my shower. Why would he call me?! It'd been months since the incident. I mentally freaked out in my head. What if he isn't, well, himself? He could lash out on me.

But what if he needed my help? He helped me. I owe him that.

That settled it.

I was gonna call him back.

Yeah. That was what I was going to do.

I inhaled and then exhaled a deep breath. This could be a big mistake. I slowly dialed the number knowing that I was an idiot. Then I pressed send.

Beeeeep. Beeeep. Beeeeep. The phone rang and rang. I was just about to hang up when I got an answer.

"Hello?" A deep voice answered.

"Blake?" I asked.

"No... actually, this is Lathan, his brother." He was still breathing fast. It sounded... almost like he was running.

"Um, okay. Do you know if Blake called me, like, a few minutes ago?"

"He probably did. He's, um, a little busy right now, though."

"What's he doing?"

"Who is this?" Lathan asked me. Didn't Blake have caller ID?


"So you know about Blake then?"

"If you're talking about his DID and the murders, then yes."

"Okay. In that case we are sort of running from the cops right now. If everything goes okay then he should call you back as soon as I find him. It'll probably be about an hour or so."

The police? What did he do this time.

*end of flashback*

I knew how that ended and I wasn't going to let it happen again. I wasn't going to let my guilty conscience get to me again. Not after what happened that day.

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