Into Oblivion

Prologue

When you think of death, you don't just think of a nice, sunny day, do you? No, of course not. Most of the time, we connect death with solemness: dark and gloomy days, rain pouring down, sometimes even snowstorms. But, never have you ever really connected death with a cheery day. That is, until you walk into the bathroom, see your best friend there, laying on the ground, with a bullet hole in her head and a gun in her left hand.

Let's rewind for a minute though.

My name is Elizabeth Robison. I have short, blonde hair and brown eyes -- my stature isn't uncommon. I'm just a normal, average, everyday girl working part-time at McDonald's. I live in the same dorm room as my best friend, Cathy Burns. We have known each other for years, so it isn't surprising that when we went to college we pulled as many strings as we could to actually be in the same room together. College life was supposed to be the best life. A time of learning, a time of fun and parties, a time to realize the value of money, but never once did I think it would be a time to solve a murder.

~

12/15/17: 5:55 A.M

Tik...tok...tik... tok. It had been approximately thirteen hours since the death of my roommate, my best friend, and I haven't been able to sleep. I could barely keep my eyes closed for five minutes, let alone my usual eight hours. People keep saying it was suicide, but I know better than to believe them. No, not just because she was right-handed, because in actuality she was both- she was ambidextrous. It had to be murder. I'll leave my theories for later, when I've had a moment to clear my mind.

At 6:50 this morning, I was told to meet the detectives at eight. Of course, I would be questioned.

I didn't rush around to get anything done and I certainly didn't rush to the meeting. Who would want to talk about something they knew nothing about? As I walked into the building, at exactly 7:59 in the morning, two policemen found me first. One on each side of me as they escorted me to the meeting place and pulled out a chair for me to sit. I sat, as they asked.

Then I waited.

The detectives waltzed into the room ten minutes past eight. Did they not care that my best friend was murdered? Were they also thinking of it as suicide?

"Robison. . . Elizabeth?" Asked the female detective, Ms. Teal, according to her nametag.

I nodded my head once.

The two sat down in the chairs across from me and they introduced themselves as "Detectives Teal and Charser." I simply nodded, for I did not care to learn their names. They were just here to do their jobs, nothing more.

They began the questioning.

"Were you close with Ms. Burns?"

"Yes."

"How close?"

"Best friends."

Teal wrote something down on a paper, as if confirming what I said was true.

"How long did you two know each other?" Charser asked, his voice broadening.

I mentally recalled the first time we met, back in elementary school when she dropped her backpack on my foot and I broke my toe. It actually made me smile, but a few tears slipped down my cheeks. I didn't even notice until Teal handed me a tissue to wipe my eyes.

"Seven years," I finally replied, wiping the tears away. I thought I had gotten all my tears out the night before, when I found her and the moments after when I had to sleep in a different room due to the forensics needing to clean out the bathroom and take evidence from around the dorm.

Once again, they wrote this down.

"Was she having any problems leading up to her death? Did she tell you about any troubles or show any signs of depression?"

They thought it was suicide, just like everyone else.

"No, not that I know of. She was the happiest person you could know. She was always there for people, always thinking about the good things in life and never the bad things. I remember one time; Cathy was the only kid in the grade that had confidence in our team because we were losing so badly at the volleyball game. Everyone else had a gloomy look, but there she was, cheering our team on despite us losing by ten points. We didn't end up winning, but she took me out to get ice cream anyway." I don't know why I told them that, it just flew out. Habit. I wanted to tell them about the happy moments we had so I didn't have to be reminded of what was going on right now, the fact that I was being questioned by the police about her death.

Once again, the detectives wrote this down. "Did she have anyone who disliked her? Enemies, per say?"

Who would hate Cathy? No one crossed my mind, so I shook my head. I'd know if someone had quarrels with her, as I was her best friend. I would have seen something, heard something from someone over these years.

One last question.

"And where were you last night at the time of the death?"

Of course, they ask everyone this question. For me, it's a simple cut and dry question. I have nothing to hide, and they have nothing to suspect me of.

"I was at a party, with my other friends. Cathy was there with us, but she left early because she wanted to study for a test that she had. . . today." I wasn't giving them enough information, and I was doing that purposely. They should have no reason to even consider me as a suspect. And besides that, I was having quite a difficult time remembering what happened the rest of the night. I remember being at the party with Cathy, and I remember her leaving, but the bits in between were blurry, and pieces of information felt missing.

Teal further pressed on the subject. "Why weren't you with your so called 'best friend' at this party? You were not the first person questioned, Ms. Robison. In fact, your statement does not match up with the information we have. I will ask one more time: Where were you at the time of the death?"

Sweat trickled down the side of my face. Why was I sweating? I have nothing to hide, absolutely nothing. I just don't remember what happened, how was my story not matching what other people had told them? "I was. . . I want a lawyer." I said the first thing that popped to mind, and it was what I'd always seen on these types of shows. However, I may have made a grave mistake.

Because with that, I became the prime suspect in my best friend's murder mystery.