User talk:XxKellz

The Secrets Of Lies And Betrayal

“Mr. Anberlin?” Nothing. Words couldn’t register in Tim’s mind right now. He couldn’t speak, for words he could not say. Nor could he move, for his muscles were numb. He couldn’t take his eyes away from the black bag in which held her body. Elizabeth’s body. Only an hour ago he found her on the ground, staring into a blank space, though to Tim, it felt like eternity. “Mr. Anberlin?” the police officer said once more. The officer put his hand on Tim’s shoulder. Tim ripped his eyes from the bag to stare into the man’s pale face. Tim’s dark brown hair fell over his right eye and as he brushed it away he found something wet. Tears. He hadn’t realised he was crying. He looked at his hand and realised it wasn’t just a tear, but also blood. He turned around, hunched over and vomited. “Sir, I am Deputy Ian Sim” the police officer said. He scratched his blonde head nervously. “This is my card, and I’d like you to give me a call when you can.” Tim eyed the card with his deep green eyes and managed to lift his numb arm to grab the card. Ian stood up and offered him a hand. Tim shook his head, and put his head between his knees. “Okay then. Have a good night sir. I am truly sorry for your loss.” He put his hand on his shoulder; Tim lifted his head to nod, and watched the deputy retreat back to the front of a police car to help the other policemen. He lifted his head just in time to see the coroners loading the black bag into the back of an ambulance. Tim woke to the nightmare in which had tortured him almost every night since Elizabeth’s murder over 2 years ago. He looked around him and realised it was only 7:51am. He looked down at himself and the cold sweat was there again. He lied back into the pillows and calmed his breathing. He sighed and got out of bed, and walked down the hallway. A square of light was spread across the timber flooring. He turned to the room and looked inside. Every little piece of information on Elizabeth’s death was stretched across all four walls, so no blue paint was shown. He looked at the picture of him and her and felt familiar pain in which had become his best friend stab through his chest. He turned around and continued to the shower. (2 YEARS LATER) An abrupt knocking at the door made him jump. He left his bowl of cereal, and went to the door. He opened it to see his Brother John standing at the doorway. “Hey big brother...” he said. His hair had grown out again. Only to show his natural coloured brown roots, completely different colouring to the dyes blonde he had. His green eyes looked more tired than usual. “Hi John... it’s been a while...” he replied opening the door wider for his brother to come in. His brother laughed. “Yeah. It’s only been about a year now.” He walked in and sat himself where Tim was just sitting. “Make yourself at home...” Tim said, closing the door, and sitting himself in front of John. “Don’t mind if I do.” He said. “So. No phone call? No letter? You still upset about... Well ya know.” He said. “My girlfriend did only die on my birthday. Murdered actually” Tim said defensively. Feeling his temper running away. “Yeah, yeah I know. The night of your birthday party. Well our birthday party. Horrible party anyway if you ask me.” John said. “Where’s your bathroom?” he asked looking about the room. Tim stood up and directed him toward the bathroom. John started toward the bathroom, and looked in the open room where Tim’s obsession took place. “Jesus almighty!” he croaked. He stepped into the room and Tim sprinted over. He forgot all about the room, which was all he had left to remind him of her. John was in the middle of the room looking all about him. Horror and interest all over his face. Tim watched him for a moment. John walked over to the far wall, stepping on old newspapers on the way. He read an article on the wall about her murder investigation. Only thing everyone could find another no result. One of many on the walls around him. He looked at a few more and turned to face Tim. “I think it’s time you left.” Tim said stepping aside for the doorway to be free so John could leave. John tapped his head. “You need help.” He started. “This...” he went over to a wall and ripped off an article about the funeral in which almost the whole small town attended. “This, my brother is a little thing called insanity and obsession... You’re 23 now. Just...Get over it!” he exclaimed, scrunching up the paper. Tim cringed. “Time to leave. Now!” Tim said. John chuckled; he then rushed past him, less than 10 seconds later Tim heard the front door slam. Tim turned back to the room and approached the wall in which John was just standing. He took another article off the wall and looked at it. Elizabeth’s pale face and blue eyes stared back at him. Her dark brunette ringlets were perfect that day. He looked at the person standing next to her. The man in the photo had his hands around her waist, he stared at her lovingly. What had become of him? He looked at his reflection in the frame of Elizabeth and himself. He looked completely different. He used to be fit, now he looked skinny and fragile.Nothing alike the Tim in the photo. Why Elizabeth? Why did she have to die? What person would rid someone as happy and wonderful as her off the face of Earth? Tim’s adrenaline took over. Everything he had worked for. He had worked on her murder for 2 years now. Lost everything, everyone he held close. Just to find the one who’s guilty. And he had nothing. Nothing! He ripped the article to shreds and dropped it to the floor. He grabbed at the walls, newspaper articles tearing away from the walls by the handfuls. His hands scraped the walls ripping off a fingernail. Blood oozed from his finger, and he continued tearing at the walls. He chucked a pile of paper to the floor, and when he was done sat down into a futile state. He sat like that for a while. He finally looked up, and saw that in his rush he must have knocked her photo in the frame to the ground. He picked it up, and saw his reflection. His eyes were all wet, and the dark bags underneath his eyes looked as if he was recovering from a fist fight. He had a smear of blood on his face. He raised his free hand and looked at his hand. A flash of memory came over him and he threw the picture against the wall. It shattered and collapsed to the floor. He picked up the picture again, picking off pieces of glass and wood. He then fell to the floor. About mid day he rose to his feet, he stared at the picture a little more and then went to his room and put the photograph in his bedside table. He returned to the room in which used to be some kind of obsessive shrine with a garbage bag and started clearing the floor. He put the garbage out and went to his shed and got out a bucket of sky blue paint. The next afternoon, John awoke from a dreamless night. He felt as if he had betrayed Elizabeth by tearing down what he had done for her, though he still loved her. She would always be with him, though now he realised. Maybe it was time to try overcome the horrific events that haunted him. It would take time, he knew that. Though, he thought that tearing down what he had had helped escalate the time. He thought he could just get out of it like that. Further along the day whilst Tim was flicking through channels on the TV and ate his supper, he flicked past the news channel and was horrified at what he saw. He turned up the volume, and the TV reporter’s voice echoed through his body. There had been another murder. Lilly Taylor. Why was that name so familiar? An image flashed onto the news. Her eyes. Just like... The phone rang just then, interrupting his thoughts. He almost jumped out of his chair. He reached over and picked it up. “Hello?” he croaked. “Turn the TV on” It was John. “It... It is on” he managed to stutter. “Do you remember who that is?” John said sounding excited. Tim didn’t reply. He couldn’t. “That’s Lilly Taylor! You know, Elizabeth’s sister?” John said breathlessly. He said it so cold. So... evil. Tim hung up the phone. Less than an hour there was a knock at the door. “Who is it?” Tim asked. Better not be John he thought sourly. “Deputy Ian Sim...You might remember me from...” Tim opened the door before he finished his sentence. “I thought you might...May I come in” He said looking at his feet. Tim stepped aside and the officer stepped in. He shut the door behind him with a thud. Next thing Tim remembers is waking up on a cold floor. The only light was from a small barred window above making dark shades of bars across him. Tim jumped up in fright. What happened? The last thing he remembers was hearing ‘Deputy Ian Sim’. Another thought flashed in his mind. Am I in a jail cell? He got off the floor and yelled out for someone to come to him. A police officer appeared. “What the hell do you want?” he growled. “Why am I here? What happened? I can’t remember anything!” he replied. He was scared. What had happened? “Who are you?” the police officer asked. “I’m Tim. Would you mind telling me what the hell happened?” The police officer laughed. “You have no idea?” the officer looked sympathetic. He then left, and another man approached. “Hello, Tim is it?” he said. He wore a suit that covered a fair amount of skin; he had piercing blue eyes and a bald head. He looked more like a bouncer than anything else. “Yes, obviously you know as much. Answer me this; why the hell am I here?!” he asked viciously. “ To answer your question, I’m here to tell you why your here, and I’m actually not sure if you’re who you are.” He answered quietly and calmly. Tim nodded for the man to continue. “ I am Liam English, and I would like to ask you about Elizabeth Taylor, Lilly Taylor, and Mr. Ian Sim if that was alright with you?” he said looking at Tim in a way that made him uncomfortable. “What? You think I have something to do with them? What happened to Ian?” he replied looking at the man right in his eyes. “Why yes I do Tim, Ian was at your house last night am I correct?” “Yes” “He was found murdered last night. Down the stairs of your apartment actually. We found you sitting in your room rockin’ back and forth on the floor muttering to someone who wasn’t there.” He said, looking at him in a way that seemed like eyeing him down. “I didn’t murder him” Tim replied. “That’s true. You didn’t. ‘John’ did” he finished. “John? What about him? Why would my brother do that?” he said, getting worked up. “See that’s the problem, Mr Anberlin. There is no John. He is a figment of your imagination.” He replied. Tim couldn’t say anything. This guy was insane! He had done his homework obviously, but why would he have no clue of his twin brother? “Sir, you have what we call dissociative identity disorder, or commonly known as a ‘split personality’... there is no ‘John’, he is what you call your alter ego” he said slowly as if Tim couldn’t understand. This guy is bull-shitting. He had to be. “Sir, I would like to ask you about the 3 murder victims. We know you did it. Though you don’t” This was ludicrous. Tim’s blood pressure was rising. Why was he so angry all of a sudden? “I didn’t do anything! I haven’t got no ‘alter ego’ I haven’t any...” Tim’s head dropped. “Mr. Anberlin?” The man asked. He stepped closer and repeated himself. “I’m awful sorry. But, Tim isn’t able to talk right now. Would you like to leave a message?” Tim tilted his head to the side. His voice had dropped, and purred a little. “Hello John. How nice to talk to you... So what happened last night?” the officer continued, despite the fact that John appeared right before him. John laughed. “Well, you don’t kiss and tell do you? I find it very impolite” he snickered, holding onto the bars and leaning back. “Well no I.. I don’t kiss n’ tell. But, I’m after murder sir. Did you murder Mr. Sim last night?” Liam asked. John, Tim’s other self made him feel really uncomfortable. And John knew it. “Ohhh am I scary Mr copper, sir? I don’t believe I have your name?” he replied and smiled. “Liam English” Liam said for the second time. John held out his hand. “John” he said and smiled. Liam looked at his hand and back at his face. John withdrew his hand and smiled. “Hmm. Well to answer your question, yes I did. I didn’t like him. Tim doesn’t like it when people bring up Elizabeth, nor do I. When she found out about me, she didn’t like it. So, then I didn’t like her. Then when I went to go see her sister the other night, she said she knew as well and said I needed help. Why do people judge me so easily? I’m not that bad a guy.” He said looking at his nails now. “Am I?” he finished. Looking up from his nails and once again the intimidating smile spread across his face. “So is that a triple confession of murder, sir?” Liam asked having what he needed. “Yes it is, can I ask you something? Leee- um English” he said, mischievously. “Yes you may” Liam answered. John signalled for him to move closer. Liam hesitated. “I won’t bite, I’m already in enough trouble” he said casually. Liam leaned forward and so did John. “Would you like to be my fourth?” he whispered and grabbed his ear. Liam screamed for help while John held on to his ear and punched him in the head with his other fist. “I didn’t lie. Not once” he said laughing hysterically as a group of guards sprinted to Liam’s aid. End

NEW STORY First term of a new year. I had just gotten off of my Christmas holiday after a very tiring road trip up to Adelaide. Every year my mother, father, brother and I visit my Aunty Karen and cousin Elle. I live in Melbourne, and it’s a eight-hour drive from here, through the lovely traffic packed holiday roads until of course we reach the horrible Australian dessert in which I usually get over-heated and sick to my stomach. Then several hours later, arriving in Adelaide. Lovely beaches. Cute guys. Oh yeah. Might I add? It’s hot too. I like the winter time best, though I’ve never actually seen the snow or felt it. I’ve seen pictures of course, though one day I hope to accomplish making snow angels. As I run another random and completely off track thought through my head in a daydream haze, I walk down one of the corridors in my oh-so ‘attractive’ school. Run-down lockers hanging from their hinges, and many others dinted in all around me. The school obviously didn’t have time, money, nor the worry or effort to fix the lockers this break. Well also, every other break. I hear someone shout my name. I think of turning, though the thought should I turn? Or should I keep walking and ignore? Came to mind. It’s best to be polite though I never like socialising with people who think wrongly of me. Which honestly no one really knows me. Not the real me. I sigh and turn around with my fake smile on my face. If anyone knew me better they would be able to read me like a book. I’m that easy to figure it’s not funny. I smiled at my own thought and of course Zac bought it. He ran up to me and hugged me. "Oh I’ve missed you so much!" he says. "I missed you too!" I reply. Not like a white lie will hurt anybody. Zac is my ex-boyfriend as of last year. he likes me again, though he only wants me so he has something to hump. I may be 13, but I’m not dumb enough not to know this. I’ve grown up with many people like him. Use them, then get rid of them. I myself was into some bad stuff last year and the year before. I myself was pretty much tortured also. But, who cares? Not a person on the earth other than my cousins know about that. "Come on lets go' he says and starts walking toward the gym.