Arcata Police Department, Abigale recites the same line over and over
inside her head.
that brought her to this very moment all point to one thing…her guilt.
explain her ties to the victims, and the evidence that has her name
written all over it?
answers, including the identity of the real murderer?
Abigale’s life begins to unravel—her past, her present…and even
her self-proclaimed innocence.
Columbia, Canada. She began writing in elementary school, publishing
her first story on Wattpad.com at the age of thirteen. With the
support of her loved ones and newfound friends on the site, Amy
continued to share her thoughts and interests in the form of storytelling.
Summer 2012 (Creative Communication, 2012) for her poem My Garden.
That experience only drove her desire to further pursue writing. Her
first full-length novel, “Delusions”, was a featured story
on Wattpad.com, reaching #7 in the mystery/thriller genre, and
surpassing 115,000 reads, before its publishing.
loved ones, getting lost in a great read, jamming to her favourite
tunes, or giving in to her craving of Timmies’ iced lemonades.
Abigale looked down at her hands, which both shook. But from what? Jitters? Shock? Fright? Pain? She wasn’t able to decide.
She refocused on the door that both detectives had disappeared behind. What did that cop have to tell Collins that she couldn’t be in the room for? Could it be something about her mom? Maybe her dad? Her stomach churned at the thought.
The analog clock that hung on one of the bland walls was beginning to drive her insane. The constant ticking noise that counted every second she was in the room rattled around her brain. Abigale fought the urge to rip it from the nail it was suspended from and smash it on the floor. She pictured the glass face shattering on the tile, the small gears and parts sliding across the floor in a desperate attempt to flee her anger. Abigale would have already done it if she knew Collins wouldn’t make her pay for a new one.
After enduring a few minutes of excruciating silence with only her tortured thoughts and the ticking noise of the analog clock, Collins re-entered, his face ashen.
“What’s wrong?” Abigale asked, her heart climbing into her throat. The tears that had been streaming down her cheeks were long dried.
The detective shook his head, taking a seat at the table. “It’s nothing. I’ll tell you when I have more information. No sense in worrying you yet.”
“Yet?” Abigale said. She reached for his arm, her fingers wrapping around his wrist. “No, I want to know now.”
He raised an eyebrow.
Collins sighed, glancing down where she squeezed his arm. He removed her pale, shaky hand from his wrist and placed it back on her side of the table. “I’ll make you a deal. You tell me what I want to know, and I’ll inform you of what’s going on.”
Abigale’s hands curled into fists as the memories flooded back again. “No, I can’t,” she said in a small voice. “Please don’t make me do this.”
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