Delusion
Synopsis: As
she waits to give her statement in one of the interrogation rooms of
Arcata Police Department, Abigale recites the same line over and over
inside her head.
I
did not kill anyone.
I
did not kill anyone.
But
there’s a trail of bodies, and it leads straight to her. The events
that brought her to this very moment all point to one thing…her
guilt.
She
must convince Detective Collins of her innocence, but how can she
explain her ties to the victims, and the evidence that has her name
written all over it?
Then
there’s the mysterious Facebook profile. DarkHeart434.
Who
is DarkHeart434? And why does it seem like this person has all the
answers, including the identity of the real murderer?
As
pieces of the puzzle start to come together, everything about
Abigale’s life begins to unravel—her past, her present…and even
her self-proclaimed innocence.
Excerpt
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.
“Please.”
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.”
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.
“Please.”
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.”
Amy
Crandall is an avid reader and novelist born and raised in British
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.
Before
her Wattpad.com days, she was published in A Celebration of Poets -
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.
When
she isn't envisioning a new story plot, Amy can be found camping with
loved ones, getting lost in a great read, jamming to her favourite
tunes, or giving in to her craving of Timmies' iced lemonades.
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