Dead Silent - Prologue

Abela Crowe was just an average teenager. She was nice, smart, funny, and just plain amazing in almost every way. And she was my best friend.

I could tell you anything about her. What is something not many people knew about her? She couldn't fall asleep unless she had her earphones in, playing music. What did she do in her free time? On weekends she would go to parties and dances with her friends. She loved talking on the phone with boys who liked her, listening to music, and drawing. I always wondered what was in that notebook that she wouldn't let anyone see. She told me took out her feelings by drawing. What feelings? Well, that's a long story.

The things that set her apart from the world were the people around her. Her nicknames "loser," "slut," and "freak" really got to her sometimes. In no way was she any of the things people called her, but she believed them.

Let me explain. Abela was tall, blonde, skinny, and gorgeous. I've always believed that's the reason why all those jerks called her such untrue names - because they were jealous of her. Every time I heard or saw someone doing something hurtful toward Abela, I would tell her not to let them get to her. "You're beautiful and they're jealous. They have every reason to be." She would smile, thank me, and maybe even believe me for a while. Until someone else hurt her feelings, that is, and I would have to tell her again.

I thought my life was great, until Abela died.
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"Why?!" I remember screaming into a pillow when I found out about her. It was my new favorite pillow... Abela's pillow. Now, that pillow sits on my bed for me to sleep with every night. Her mother doesn't know I have it. I took the pillowcase off and hid it under my bed so she wouldn't know.

Saturday, the 23rd of January is a day I can remember everything perfectly from. It was 9:30 in the morning. My mother came into the room, cordless phone in hand, crying hysterically. I was really worried. She handed me the phone and said, "It's for you."

I shook my head, telling her I didn't want to talk to anyone. Then I ran down the stairs.

She walked into the room, phone against her shoulder. "It's the police." She set the phone down on the coffee table and walked away.

Hands shaking, I picked up the phone. "H-hello?" I stuttered.

"Katrina Gray?" The voice on the other end asked. I nodded, forgetting that he couldn't see me. "This is the state police. May we ask you some questions?"

I sighed. "Of course."

The next twenty minutes were full of questions and answers about Abela. "When was the last time you talked to her?" "When was the last time you saw her?" "Where were you the night of January 21st at 8:00 P.M.?" I answered all the questions truthfully, and then asked what was going on.

"You may want to sit down for this," the officer told me. I took a seat on the couch, heart pounding, and again asked what was going on. "Abela's body was found last night. She was murdered."

I was so shocked, the phone fell out of my hand. My mouth hung open for a few seconds as I tried to gather my thoughts, ignoring the repetitive "Hello? Hello? Miss Gray, are you okay?"

Abela was dead? I slapped myself a few times to make sure I was awake. When I realized I was, I burst into tears, kicked the phone across the room, and ran upstairs. Grabbing Abela's pillow, I screamed "Why?!" into it. I had lots of suicidal thoughts. Why does it matter if I live? Abela isn't here! That's when I walked over to the nearest wall, hit my head as hard as I could against it, and passed out.