Reaching Heaven

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 4 (v.1) - Chapter 4

Submitted: November 15, 2011

Reads: 29

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Submitted: November 15, 2011

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Chapter 4

 

It was Saturday afternoon. The sun was shining through the window and reflected onto Ryan’s televisions screen. It made it incredibly hard for him to see, so he reached for the remote and turned it off. He got up from the sofa and paced up and down his sitting room. He held his fist against his chin, he was thinking about the girl. He imagined her sitting in a pastel pink bedroom, sitting on a white stool in front of a white dresser. He imagined her picking up an eye shadow pallet, and applying a peach shade. He then imagined her applying a red lipstick to her thin lips. He then imagined her getting up and walked bare foot across the laminate floor; she was wrapped in a pink fluffy dressing gown. Then he pictured her taking a black party dress from the wardrobe. His thoughts were disturbed by the letter box squeaking open and white envelopes fell onto the door mat. Neptune ran excitedly to the door and barked at it. You could hear the muffled voice of the postman saying ‘Hello again little doggy!’ and he posted a biscuit through the letterbox and Neptune wolfed it down quickly. Ryan walked to the door and picked up the mail. He flicked through each envelope. They were all bills. But then he came to the last one, the address was hand written in black ink. He dropped the bills on the floor; he knew he couldn’t pay them. He opened the letter, and then read it out.

‘Dear Mr. R. Huntsman, your job application for Kingston Secondary School has been accepted.’ He then read through the rest of the letter in his head, his lips mimed each word as he read. He then looked at the dog, ‘We’re in the money Neptune!’ he said, dropping the letter and lifted up the dog. He swung her high above his head like a child; Neptune yapped and licked his fingers.

 

Ryan buttered his toast, it was eight in the evening and he was making supper. He flicked on the radio and bit into his toast. He put the toast down onto the plate and put the butter back into the fridge. He sang along to Sweet Home Alabama that was blasting out of the radio. He sat down on one of the high breakfast bar stools, and picked up the newspaper. He flicked through, but only looked at the pictures, and then he turned to the back, where the football was. ‘We have some breaking news. A young girl from Kingston Secondary School has been reported missing in the early hours of today’ Ryan suddenly stopped and turned towards the radio, he turned up the volume and put down his toast. The girls name is Emma Jackson, and her mother says that she thought she was at a friends. If anyone has seen anything suspicious, or may know anything about the situation then please call... The serious man on the radio then read out a number, Ryan’s heart was beating so fast and his whole body flushed with hot fear. Then he thought to himself. He thought that Emma Jackson might not be the girl he murdered, it has been a while since she died, let alone when he kidnapped her, so why would her own mother not notice? It had to be someone different, he thought. Neptune was curled in the corner of the kitchen in her wicker dog basket. She was asleep and all Ryan could hear were the chesty breaths of his little brown and white dog. His mind had stopped; he couldn’t think anymore, he couldn’t even pay attention to what was on the radio, he couldn’t even tell if it was a news broadcast or a song in the charts.

 

*

 

I sat on the chair next to my mother as she cried; she had her hands on her face and was weeping loudly. I patted her on the shoulder, trying to comfort her. She didn’t know I was there. The police sat opposite her. Sipping there tea out of the white mugs, not sure what to say. The one police man was stocky, he had a round face and his collar on his shirt looked like it was strangling him, but he was the one who broke the silence. He stood up with his mug, and said ‘Thank you for your time Mrs. Jackson, we’ll keep you updated on any news, here’s our number if you need us.’ As he pulled out a contact card from his pocket, the other one stood up and picked up his mug from the coffee table. They then walked out of the living room and gently put their mugs in the kitchen sink, before opening the front door, and closing it neatly behind them. My brother was also sat in the room; he was on the arm chair on his laptop. He was older than me; he was now 20 years old. He didn’t live at home, but he moved in to comfort my mother. As he slowly typed on the keyboard, I watched his fingers as they pressed each letter, they spelt: ‘Sorry, have to go now, see you when I can.’ Then he pressed enter and closed the laptop lid. He moved the grey laptop off his lap and placed it on the coffee table that was in front of him. He rubbed mum’s shoulder, then bent down and kissed her head. I followed my brother out of the room. He went upstairs and I followed. He went into his old bedroom, and I followed. The room used to be filled with posters of bands and football players, and the room used to be messy, with pizza boxes on the floor. But now the room was painted white and it was tidy. It was the spare bedroom. I sat down on the bed, with my hands on my lap. I watched my older brother as he lifted off his top. He threw it onto the wooden chair in the corner of the room and turned around to face the bed. He had a tattoo on his chest, it was just above his nipple, and it said ‘Emma. I stared at the tattoo, and I wondered if he knew I was dead. He then pulled back the duvet and climbed into bed. I lay down next to him, but he looked straight through me.

‘Josh’ I whispered, ‘I’m here, and I’m fine.’ I placed my hand on his arm, and watched him as a solitary salty tear ran down his face and trickled on his chin. The tear fell onto the pillow. I knew he heard me. 


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