Annabelle’s bedroom
1861 Singer St
Preston, CA
00019
Dear Annabelle,
It’s me, Cat. I’m watching you at my funeral right now. Please don’t cry, Bellie. When you get home and find this letter on your bed, I need you to stop being sad and help me.
I am just as shocked as you are that I can write to you. I honestly have no idea what I’m doing. I am just kind of existing in this weird space, caught between earth and whatever lies beyond this. I think it might have something to do with unresolved deaths, and I think I can communicate with you because you are the only one I bet the authorities could not convince.
First, understand this: I didn’t do this to myself on purpose. It wasn’t an accident, either. I’ll try my best to explain this to you. You just have to trust me. Please.
Ok, so they told you and everyone else that I died of a fentanyl overdose. Ok, believable enough, I know our area has a drug problem. But you know I’ve never done hard drugs. My parents thought they knew this too, but teenagers do stuff behind their parent’s backs all the time. But you, Annabelle, I do everything with you. You know me better than anyone, and you know I have always stayed away from anything too dangerous. You know I was depressed, but you also know I never wanted to end my life.
It was Carl. Yeah, little Carl Dotey that we’ve known forever. Remember I went to 8th grade formal with him? I knew he had a crush on me for a while after that, but apparently he’s been in love with me for 4 years, STALKING me, and then I guess he decided that if he couldn’t have me, I shouldn’t be alive.
He’s deranged, Bellie, absolutely insane. I need you to help me expose him. I know this sounds crazy. But I don’t want my family to go on thinking I killed myself. You’re the only one that can help.
I love you,
Cat
Dear Catherine,
Someone is definitely messing with me. I don’t know why I’m even writing back. But it is in your handwriting, and you did call me Bellie, and I really want to believe that you didn’t do this to yourself. You’re my best friend and I don’t want to accept that you didn’t want to live and I didn’t know and didn’t help. So I am going to write this and leave it on the foot of my bed, because I don’t know where else to leave it.
First, I miss you so much Cat. I am so sorry. Carl Dotey is an absolute creep but I never thought he could be dangerous.
Of course I’ll help you. Of course I want him to get what he deserves. I swear I’d kill him myself, but I know you wouldn’t want me to do that. Tell me what to do, and I will do it.
Love,
Bellie
Annabelle’s bedroom
1861 Singer St
Preston, CA
00019
Annabelle,
Yes, it’s really me. Thank you for believing me. Ok here’s the deal. Carl and I were in chemistry together. We were partners for an assignment, so he came over one day so we could work on it. While he was over, he was getting kind of close and I kept kind of pulling away from him. Once we were done, when he was about to leave, he asked me on a date and I told him I wasn’t really interested and I’m sorry. That was November 5th.
Carl was absent from class one day and he texted me asking if he could get the notes after school one day. I said yeah, so he came over and started writing down the notes. We were in the dining room, my parents weren’t home. I was just doing other homework while he was copying my notes, and I said I was going to run upstairs to get something from my room. I needed Othello for that essay Mr. Higgins assigned, remember? Anyway, it was taking me a couple of minutes to find it.
As I was looking for it, I heard a creak. I turned around and Carl was standing in my doorway. It was kind of weird and I didn’t like him in my room but there wasn’t much I could say so I just kept looking. He just kind of started making small talk, and then he brought up a date again. “You know, I think we’re really similar” and “Come on, let me take you out just one time, just give me one chance.” At that point I was getting uncomfortable, as one does when a male isn’t taking no for an answer and no one else is around.
Still, I wasn’t really on guard or super nervous because little Carl Dotey doesn’t look like much. You’d never know by looking at him, Bellie, really. But when I lost my temper a little bit, I turned around and said in a little bit of a raised voice “Carl, I’m not interested, just leave it alone,” and his eyes were different. He looked hardened, and there was a wild glint in his eye, like he’d lost his head a little bit.
He grabbed my arm with force I didn’t know he had. He said, “You didn’t think I was so repulsive in 8th grade. What happened, Catherine?” I was scared, in shock, I couldn’t really move. He asked me again what happened, tightening his grip and twisting my arm a little bit. Then, he swiftly pulled a needle out of his pocket, stabbed it into my arm, and injected it. It happened so fast, his motions were so fluid, so practiced. Almost like he’d done it before.
I yanked myself away from him, but the sudden movement made my vision blurry and without his support I started stumbling and I passed out. What he did was, he put on gloves and replaced the empty needle with his fingerprints on it with a clean one. He took my hands and put my fingerprints on it, pricked my skin with it (I guess so my skin cells were on it), picked up his things from the dining room, and left. That was it.
3 hours later I was dead, 4 hours later my parents came home, 40 minutes after that paramedics were in my room pronouncing me dead. So there it is, that’s the story.
Carl threw out the needle he used in a dumpster on the corner of Chop St and 7th St. I need you to find it. That’s the only true piece of evidence. Also, he didn’t finish getting my chemistry notes. If you can get ahold of his notebook, it’ll show that his notes exactly match mine up until the point where he came up to my room. Either his notes will stop there, or they’ll be different than mine after that point.
I don’t really know what else to do. We can figure it out as we go. I know you hate getting dirty, but we need the needle Annabelle.
Love,
Cat
Sigh. I’ll go tomorrow morning. I’ll write again when I have it.
Annabelle
Cat,
Ok hiiii I have the needle! God that was so disgusting. It took me actually 2 hours to get it and I smell disgusting. I had gloves on and I put it in a plastic bag so I think the fingerprints should still be on it. The bag is under my bed.
Getting Carl’s notebook is going to be much harder than that. We have math together on Monday, but how am I supposed to get it without him noticing? I should also not interact with him if it’s possible. He knows I’m your best friend and we don’t want him thinking I’m onto him.
Let me know what you think. I’m going to take a shower now.
Love,
Annabelle
Annabelle’s bedroom
1861 Singer St
Preston, CA
00019
Annabelle,
YAYYYY go best friend go best friend I love you. Ok. We have the actual murder weapon. Will that be enough? Could you at least try and get his notebook? I feel like that would just put us in a better position and close some gaps in the story, because obviously you can’t go to the police and say your dead friend told you everything that happened.
If he leaves the room for anything during math class, try to get into his backpack, ok? I’m sorry Bellie. I hate asking you to do this. You don’t need to if you feel like it’s dangerous, you’ve already done so much for me.
By the way, how is everyone? How is my family? And your parents? I miss everyone. I hope they’re doing ok.
Love,
Cat
Cat are you kidding? You’re my absolute best friend in the world. Carl freaking killed you, I told you I’d kill him myself if you’d let me. I’ll do anything to make him get what he deserves.
Everything is weird. Your parents are devastated of course. Hopefully exposing Carl will bring them a little bit of peace, knowing their daughter wasn’t a suicidal druggie. My parents are trying their best to be normal for me I think. But I know they’re messed up about you too. We all miss you.
You said being able to communicate with me had something to do with your death being unresolved? So that makes me think that once I report everything to the police and Carl is exposed, I guess your death will be “resolved.” And then what, you’ll be gone?
Part of me almost doesn’t want to turn everything in. I don’t want to lose you Cat. But I know it’s inevitable, that I already have lost you.
Ok I’ll try and get the notebook tomorrow. I’ll let you know how it goes.
I love you,
Annabelle
Annabelle’s bedroom
1861 Singer St
Preston, CA
00019
Dear Bellie,
I don’t know what’ll happen when this is resolved either. I guess I’ll “cross over,” but I have no clue what that means or what to expect.
We will probably lose contact. I’m almost sorry for these letters. I know they’re like a tease. But I am glad I got to talk to you before it was really truly over.
I can never thank you enough for everything you’re doing for me now and everything you’ve done for me throughout our whole lives.
Write me back when you get home from school.
Love,
Cat
Annabelle’s bedroom
1861 Singer St
Preston, CA
00019
Bellie, where are you? What happened yesterday, did you get the notebook? Write me backkkk.
Annabelle’s bedroom
1861 Singer St
Preston, CA
00019
Annabelle, it’s been almost 3 days. You’re scaring me. Where are you????
Dear Catherine,
I am sorry it took me so long to write to you. I had to take care of some things. You, see I meant for no one to fine out what happened to you, Catherine. So it’s going to stay that way.
I am sorry about your friend though. I didn’t particularly care for her, but I suppose she didn’t really deserve what she got. But this was between you and me. It isn’t my fault you roped her into it.
Tootles,
Carl