barelybear

United Kingdom

she/her, INFJ-A
musicals
fantasy/dystopian fiction
piano
life goal = becoming fluent in le français
☕️
est August 2020
community ambassador alum :D
Lmao at being 17
the squirrel is back!!

Message to Readers

Tell me what you think
I kinda just wanted to write something because I’ve been afk for too long listening to beetlejuice :)
But I’d be interested in improving this and making a series so any support would be amazing
Thanks
bb :p

The Murder transcript: Confession of Stacey Murphy?

January 16, 2021

FREE WRITING

1
Cooper     Okay Stacey, we know this must be a hard time for you, but if you could just tell us what happened that night. 

Murphy     First thing you should know: I didn’t really mean to do it. You have to understand that now, at the beginning. In a way, he kinda did it - yes, that’s what happened. He made me do it. 

The second thing: I’m an ordinary girl. Well, not that ordinary, given that I’m head cheerleader, part-time model and would-be Prom Queen if Brent hadn’t... You know... Yeah. Don’t get me wrong, I’m distraught, completely. We would have looked so gorgeous together, don’t you think? 

Cooper     Ermm... I’m sure you would have, sweetie? But I’m here to find out what you know about his death. 

Murphy     Okay see already here we’re off on the wrong foot. Don’t you understand? Brent and I were the best couple in the school. Nobody looked like us, nobody dressed like us, and nobody could touch us. The ultimate cliché, I know, but doesn’t it seem romantic to you, floating above everyone else, just you and your soulmate? (at this point Murphy broke down laughing at the newfound irony of the term ‘Soulmate’.)

Murphy (continued)   We had everything.

We’d been going strong for one year, 4 months and nine days when I first noticed the change. He stopped shaving so neatly. He began to wear yellow. With orange. While before he would always drape his arm around my shoulders or hold my hand, now he just slugged behind me. One day he even put gel in his hair. Gel!

I’d had enough of this nonsense. If he wasn’t careful, the natural order, our school’s Great Chain of Being, would be disrupted. People would start thinking they could be level with us, greater than us even. Jenny might think she could be head cheerleader (she can’t even do a high kick into back tuck properly, so I wasn’t massively worried). I shudder to think even now what chaos could have ensued if we had allowed it to continue.

It couldn’t happen, and he knew it. 

So, as any responsible girlfriend would, I sat him down one day (on a Fendi Casa sofa - I’m not a monster) and I spilled all my feelings, how much he was risking for the both of us, what this could do to me. I talked and talked, but was utterly silent. He just sat there, didn’t say a word. There I was, crying my eyes out all down my new Gucci jumper over some brainless potato. I tried talking more gently, but when nothing could penetrate his thick skull, I began shouting and screaming at him and still he just sat there and took it. What kind of boyfriend even was he anyway?

Everything froze inside of me, except for the angry drum beat of my heart - my heart that he had made warm, the heart that he melted every time he smiled, the heart that he was now all too willing to smash up into ugly shards. We’d talked about being prom King and Queen forever, and he was going throw it away? I raged on and on, but nothing would calm me. I picked up the vase on the coffee table. I’d see how he liked being made into some hideous creature, the smashed feeling. I yelled at him to say something, to tell me why he was doing this to me, why he was ruining me, but his mouth was stitched, eyes glazed as if death had already taken ahold of him. I threw the vase. 

Mother rushed in at that moment, watching in horror as her favourite vintage glasswork crashed with the force of a hurricane into her neatly-done wall. I screamed in frustration. And Brent - who had just sat there (sat there!) unflinchingly through my outpour, my heart to heart, my brave and honest display of my deepest emotions - got up and left. I had had it with him. Everyone was already gossiping about our fall from power, and he wouldn’t even try to fix it. Even Mother couldn’t  reassure me with promises of clothes or a redecoration. Brent had ruined me. 

Cooper     Wow... So, which day was this incident?

Murphy     Tuesday. It’s the only day we have cheerleading and football together. 

Cooper      And what about Thursday? The day of his death?

Murphy     Oh on Thursdays I go to the spa with Mother. And sheesh I needed something relaxing this week! So I got the Swedish treatment, with extra oils.

Cooper     Around when would you say you came out of the spa? 

Murphy     Probably 8. You can’t rush a traditional European deluxe massage.

Cooper     But that would place you in the spa way before and after the time of the murder..

Murphy     For sure it does! If it wasn’t me, then who was it? I blame that exchange kid - Mother says never to trust anyone from Illinois. 

Cooper    Wait so what was that whole thing earlier where you wanted me to know you didn’t really mean to do it? 

Murphy    I didn’t! Now I can never wear that jumper again, and Mother’s super upset that I broke her vase. Officer can I go?

Cooper    I guess so. We might call you in again later, though. 

Notes: I really thought this case couldn’t be easier, what with the murder weapon being cuticle scissors. But our main suspect has an alibi (which I’ll check, of course). This really is turning out a little bizarre. 
 
This started out as she was the murderer completely, but I’m not sure now. Ima have to get so,e more characters, I think. 

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1 Comment
  • A. Penderwick

    Ooooh, this is interesting. Are you planning on writing more?


    9 months ago