mali didn't sleep that night. she was too terrified. every creak, every howl, every bang made her jump. she couldn't stop thinking about the psycho that had messaged her yesterday and that could be watching her right at that moment. mali couldn't stop picturing the teenage girl sobbing over her best friend lying dead on the road.
according to the news, three cars of the eleven vehicles involved in the crash yesterday were filled in students heading to their senior prom. only one of the fourteen in the cars survived, diana richards, simply because of where she was sitting. her leg and arm were broken, along with multiple ribs and her jaw. the girl's liver and kidney had been punctured, and she's been diagnosed with major brain trauma. the doctors don't know what the long term effects will be, but even still, all of her friends were dead. she saw the girl she'd known for thirteen years catapult right through the windscreen and skid along the asphalt.
and the worst thing was that the girl she watched die was lauren irwin.
mali was close to lauren. heck, she'd watch the girl grow up. calum and ashton being mates in their garage band meant the families became close. mali loved the irwins but now only two were left. were they ever going to get a break? was this ever going to be over?
and then her phone pinged.
hello, mali. are you ready to play round two?
i hate you
get in line.
she was an innocent girl. why did you have to ruin that, michael? haven't you already done enough?
as you should know by now, mali, no one is innocent.
but enough about what innocence really is, we have a game to play.
once again, miss hood. rock, paper, or scissors?
fucking rock
tsk, tsk, miss hood. your mother should wash your mouth out with soap.
oh, that's right. your mother is dead, isn't she?
mali dropped her phone in shock and rushed over to her home phone. she typed in her mum's phone number, the one that she had used so many times before. and it rang. and it rang. and it rang. but it never connected. she ended the call and typed in her dad's number. after four rings her father picked up, sounding a mess.
"mali? oh, mali. m-mali. i don't know. i don't know what to do! i didn't do anything! i was just sitting in the lounge room and i heard a noise upstairs and-" a sob cut him off, the sound of the poor man's heart shattering audible even though thousands of kilometres apart.
"dad? dad, what happened?" mali asked, her worry increasing more and more by the minute.
"sh-she's gone. your mother. i came into the bathroom and she was there on the floor and there was blood everywhere. oh, mali, there was so much blood. it was on the walls, on the flor, on the ceiling. her . . . her head had been destroyed by a rock. i don't know how they got in, though! there isn't any sign of a break in." the sound of sirens filled mali's ear as the tears fell from her dark eyes silently. she heard the door to the house she had grown up in be kicked in and simply hung up.
until tomorrow, mali. sweet dreams.