{On Hold}
Sang Sorenson is a ghost. She doesn't exist, at least not legally. Although, Sang's family wishes that she was a ghost, that she was never born in the first place. Little did they know that Sang wished that as well. Then, one night, somet...
I sprinted out into the woods behind my house. I kept running and running, getting as far away as I could. Images of what just transpired kept popping up into my vision. I couldn't believe what just happened. She couldn't be... she just couldn't...
I tripped over a tree root and fell face down. I coughed, dragging air into my weak lungs. I rolled onto my back and hissed at the pain. I was pretty sure I had several bruised, maybe even cracked, ribs. Not to mention the blood seeping through the wound in my shoulder.
I wheezed out through my teeth before pushing myself up. I knelt on the ground and decided this was far enough. I set down the pink bag I was carrying beside me and took out the glass jar. I used it to dig a deep hole in the dirt. I was scrambling, trying to do it as quickly as I could so I could get back home. Father needed me to hide back in the attic space before the police got there. There was no hiding this, everyone in Sunnyvale Court had to have heard the shots fired.
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After a few feet, I stopped and reached into the bag again. I lifted the gun out and held it cautiously in my hands. It seemed like such a small thing, barely bigger than my hand. Who would've thought that such a thing as a tiny piece of metal could have such horrifying consequences?
One aim, one pull of the trigger, one bullet was all it took to kill Dianne.
I gently placed the weapon into the burrow I made and quickly swiped the dirt back into the hole. I made sure to put leaves and twigs over the covered gun, making it seem like no one had been digging there in case someone suspected anything. I grabbed the bag and was about to leave, but stopped.
I picked up a rock and carved a small heart on the trunk of the tree next to where I had dug the hole. Inside, I put the initials S.S. + M.R. It was mine and my mothers, I knew it because of the locket around my neck. It was the only thing I had of hers, the only thing my father allowed me to keep.
I don't know why I drew the heart, but something inside me said that I might need to find the gun in the future. Besides, even if someone saw the heart, they would think it was just a dumb couple that did it, not me. I had read it in a novel once.
I turned on my heel and ran back home, making a visual map of the area so that I might find my way back if needed. It only took a few minutes before I made it to my backyard. I hurried inside. I could barely look at Dianne's slumped body on the living room floor, a circle of blood surrounding her. I will admit that I didn't feel any grief or sorrow, only pity for that woman.
I slipped around her form to where my father was crouched by the stairs. He was using bleach to get rid of the other pool of red that had come from me. Father said we had to make sure there was no trace of me being here. We had to pretend that it was an intruder who broke into the house and killed my stepmother. Of course, I was to stay hidden and not get involved at all, I would only make things worse, as always. Father would get into even more trouble, I would be exposed to the world I had grown up fearing, and everyone would know what had happened tonight.
"Sang, get yourself cleaned up. I need you to bandage your wound and get rid of the evidence. If you hear any sirens before you're done, grab everything and bring it into your attic space. You stay in there and you do not make a sound! I'll get you out when it's safe. Do you understand?" Father quickly spoke to me.
I bowed my head in a nod before running up the stairs to the hallway bathroom. I set down the bag and looked through all the cabinets, getting what I needed. I ripped my bloody shirt off and put it in the pink purse, ignoring the purple and black bruises on my ribs. I set to work cleaning the hole in my shoulder, I shuddered when I thought about taking the bullet out. I knew I had to do it, but it wasn't going to be pretty.
I grabbed the tweezers and slowly poked them into my wound. Grunting and screaming silently, I twisted and pulled the piece of metal out. It only took a few seconds of jerking, but it was excruciating. I dropped the bullet into my palm; it was crusted over with my blood.
I knew I should probably give it to my father to get rid of, but, instead, I tucked it into the pocket of my jeans. Next, I washed the needle before threading it. This was probably going to hurt more than taking out the bullet.
I clenched my jaw as I pushed the needle into my skin and started stitching up the injury. I was biting my lip so hard, I drew a small amount of blood. When I was done, I knotted the thread and bit of the excess left over with my teeth, throwing a T-shirt on.
I made sure everything was placed in the pink bag and nothing touched the sink or floor. It had to seem like I was never here, like I didn't even exist. I zipped up the purse and exited the bathroom. Right then, I heard it-- the police sirens.
Marie appeared in the hall, her face streaked with tears. She sniffed before saying, "You have to get to the attic. Come on."
I hurried into my room, Marie right behind me. I pulled open the door and threw the bag inside before glancing back at my sister.
She gave me a small, hesitant smile that I returned. After tonight, maybe things would change between us. It sure seemed like that's where it was going.
I scrambled inside the attic space and crawled to the back. I could hear the grunting of Marie and some dragging noises. She must be pushing the bookcase in front of the door so they didn't check inside. Smart. I squeezed myself into the left side of the landing where no one would be able to see me if they found the attic door and peeked in. I wheezed softly at the excursion of my fast movements. Pushing the pink purse between me and the wall, I leaned my head back and waited. And that's how I was to stay until Father came to fetch me.
