The Corners Secret

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic

The explanation of a sad death, sitting in a corner.

Chapter 1 (v.1) - The Corners Secret

Submitted: February 18, 2011

Reads: 313

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Submitted: February 18, 2011

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  I leaned my body against the empty hallway's doorpost. The early afternoon sun rays shined in on my face. My hair felt slisky and dirty as I put it up in a ponytail. I hadn't showered in days. I had lost track since the funeral. Nothing mattered anymore.

  I had one mission, or job, to do that week. I had to leave the apartment. There was no way I could stay, I could not handle it. The memories were so strong, the thought of Joel, creepy. So I boxed everything. Every single thing we had bought together, gone. Packed away or thrown out. Not even a suit of his or picture left. I kept nothing that symbolised him.

  I stood there in that hallway, probably longer than I ever had before. My faced hung down, my mind spaced out. It was time to go, time to say goodbye. I would never see the place again, never smell his scent again. Because, at that moment, in that whole gorgeous, french apartment, I could always smell Joel. And I didn't want to.

  I got back to reality, tried to ignore the salty drops coming from the insides of my tired eyes, as I walked into the livingroom. The fireplace stood there, apart of the wall, that knew my story. Every aspect, every detail was the same as it had been before. There was only one thing that caught my attention. In the left side corner stood our first shared Champagne bottle. I knew exactly, I remembered when it had been emptied. But why it was sitting there, lonely on the wooden floor, I couldn't understand immediately. Then the doorbell rang.

  It was Detective Palthrow. He explained that the cause of death was still unknown. No sign of murder, no sickness or disease known. It was all unclear and unknown. He looked puzzled and confused, disappointed and ashamed. He had no news for me, no answers to my questions. He was almost as helpless as I. I thanked him and slowly closed the door.

  I went back to investigate the bottle. I picked it up with my dry hands and read the scratched lable. Then I frowned, there was a scruntched up note inside. I slowly backed away from the corner, holding the bottle as if it were a loaded gun, dangerous but precious. The note said;

The wrong kind of happiness, the bad consience haunted me. I couldn't not live any longer. I'm sorry, it was too late anyways. I had to go, anywhere but earth. I will always love you Jenny, it wasn't you, it was me. Xox, Joel.

 

 


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