Pheobe Thomas died today. I know, you're tired of hearing her name all the time and not knowing what happened but soon enough you will. You will know what happened to Pheobe Thomas three years ago. But for now, the only thing you'll know is what she left behind. Pain, sorrow and devastation. Today was the day that members of our community would lay flowers outside of Mrs Thomas' door before she and her husband would go and place them on her grave. The Elite never did so. We went to the funeral but after that we cut off all ties we had with the Thomas'.
No one actually knew what happened except for us, yet everyone knew it was out fault. We killed Pheobe Thomas.
"I think I have enough concealer on Francine," I scoffed, swatting her hand away before she picked up a beauty blender and blended it in. The bags and dark circles under my eyes were now barely visible and I looked at least semi-decent for the church service today. She continued to do my make up and make small talk with me before my phone rang. "Hello?"
"Katie, I'm off to a meeting and your mum has some business to attend to, so I'll be home by the end of the service," my dad spoke, the sound of cars driving past in the background.
"Ok cool, bye," I cut the phone and took the lipstick from Francine's hand, "I can do that, but can you please tell Henry to get the car ready?" she nodded and scurried out of my room, leaving me in complete solitude. I shut the door and applied my lipstick before taking a seat on my bed, sighing as I fiddled the skirt of my white dress.
I took the time alone to look at my room, properly look at it. It hadn't majorly changed since I was fourteen, only a few bits and bobs I'd added when I returned as a 17 year old. The white duvet and grey satin bed sheets making my room a lot darker compared to the bright pink it used to be before. The white fur ottoman that sat at the foot of my bed also worked as a personal seat for Coco. The grey wallpaper adorned with multiple pictures of The Elite and I, at parties, at galas, at the beach. Most experiences we had photo evidence of, was on my walls.
"Henry's ready when you are Miss Katie," Maria popped her head in through the door, and smiled.
We all took a seat at the back, our designer bags on our laps and mobile devices charged fully so we had some sort of entertainment during this 3 hour service.
"It stinks," Holly scrunched up her nose and sprayed some 'Darlington' perfume into the air. I rolled my eyes as a few members of the audience turned to look at us.
After the first two hours of singing hymns and listening to some members of the church tell us their experiences with God, Denise's father, the priest, began to preach.
"So today, our topic is... Suicide," he began, my breath hitching. I instantly held onto Harry's hand and looked at the rest of The Elite, who looked liked they'd seen a ghost. We all knew what this was leading to. "And what happened to poor Pheobe Thomas three years ago," he looked me dead in the eye.
YOU ARE READING
Kingston's EliteTeen Fiction
#1 of THE E L I T E Series "No one ever said being apart of a powerful group of rich people was easy," *Warning, this is triggering and does include self harm, read at your own risk*