Monster, Abigail Livinghouse [ebooks online reader .txt] 📗

When Ana wakes up in an alley after a night out with her friends, she doesn't know what happened. She can't remember anything from the previous night, and it seems like it's still dark. Not that much time could've passed . . . could it? She's alone and frightened, and when she stumbles home, her family isn't there. The only sign of life is the television, which is blaring the news. Lisa McCain and Kristen Kelleher are dead . . . the two friends Ana had been out with that night.

 Who could've killed the two kindhearted girls? All fingers point to Ana. With the blood of her friends on her clothes and no alibis to provide, things aren't looking good for Ana. Even though she has no idea what occurred that night, she couldn't possibly have killed her friends. But when a voice shows up in her head, guiding her to who the real killer is, she must consider the possibility of having gone insane. She's not crazy. . .

 With a war being waged within herself debating her sanity, and the death of her two friends blamed on Ana, she must find the real killer, with the help of the unsuspecting voice in her head. The monster could be anyone, hiding anywhere, but could the real monster be inside someone? Maybe even Ana herself? 

It was cold. Ana Walcott  was lying on the dirty ground of Fifth Avenue. A dumpster was shielding her from the view of the street, so no one knew she was there in the alley.

 Her head was throbbing. Ana could feel a sticky substance dripping from the back of her skull down to her throat. Her eyes were closed. She could smell garbage and hear the sounds of dogs barking around her. She moaned.

 As Ana opened her eyes, she saw darkness. She blinked a few times and after a while her eyes began to adjust. She could make out a chain-link fence a few feet away from her face, and her back pressed against a large foul smelling dumpster. Ana groaned again, struggling to her knees.

 Her whole body felt sore, as if she had just run a mile without stretching. Stones pressed into her palms, sending little jolts of pain through her hands, and her knees were enduring the same. Ana grimaced as she got unsteadily to her feet, using the grime smeared wall of the dumpster for support.

 It was nearly pitch black, but from what she could see her black skirt was torn and her pink blouse was darkly wet. Ana hoped it wasn't some gross sludge from the dumpster behind her. Searching around Ana found her black clutch on the ground. She picked it up and inspected the contents, relieved when she found her phone and the twenty dollars she always carried around with her in case of emergencies.

 She still had her black heels on for which she was glad. Walking barefoot around town was not the best idea. The throbbing in Ana's head hadn't gotten any better. If there was ever a time for her mother to be here to offer her some Aspirin, it was now.

 To the side of Ana was a brick wall, and as she turned around she saw the lit street of Fifth Avenue. Ana made her way outside of the alley with her purse in her hand, and once she emerged she was met with empty sidewalks and closed restaurants to her left and right. Everything was closed, even the clubs that were open till all hours of the night. What . . . time was it?

 Ana rifled through her purse until she came up with her phone. When she pressed the power button though, the screen stayed black. She scowled, her eyes widening in fear. Had she broken her phone sometime during the night? Her mother would kill her if she messed up another phone. This was her third this month. After hitting the button a few more times with no results, Ana concluded that her phone just wasn't going to work.

 Shoving it back into her purse, she looked up and down the street, seeing absolutely no one. Jesus, she really wished her goddamn phone would work. What the hell time was it? With no one around and no place open offering a phone or a hint as to where she specifically was, Ana was completely out of luck.

 She concentrated on where she had been before she passed out. The funny thing was she didn't even remember lying down to take a nap on the dirty streets of Manhattan. She didn't remember much at all, except leaving school and making plans with Lisa, Kristen, and Ally to go out for a girl's night. Had they even made it out?

 Obviously, considering she was on Fifth Avenue which was where the fun always was. Somehow with everything shut down and barely lit by the street lights, things seemed much more eerie than fun to Ana tonight.

 She straightened up and stepped fully into the meager light, feeling how cold and damp the air was. Ana clutched her arms around herself, realizing that her shirt was especially cold from being wet. She had forgotten, and as she looked down she gasped, her stomach giving a sickening twist.

 Large red splotches stained her shirt. It must've been soaked into her skirt as well, because red trails were beginning to trickle down her legs. With a shaking hand Ana touched her throat where she had felt sticky before, assuming it had just been something dripping from the dumpster. However when she pulled her hand back, her fingers were crimson.

 With a yelp of terror Ana stumbled back into the brick wall of the alley, staring wide eyed in horror at her hand and legs slowly turning red.

 "Oh God, oh God, oh God." She kept repeating, frantically wiping her hands on her skirt to get the blood off of her.

 She couldn't understand how she was bleeding so much. She didn't feel like she was injured, aside from the stiffness of lying in an alleyway for who knows how long and a persistent headache. Ana wondered for a split second if she had cut herself while getting up but quickly dismissed it. A small cut wouldn't have produced this much blood. But if it wasn't her blood then . . . who's was it? 

All Ana knew was that she had to get home. She had no clue where the nearest police station was, and with her phone having self-destructed somehow, she had to rely on her memory of Fifth Avenue to get her back.

 She had only been on this street a few times for dates before and the rare girls night. Ana wondered where Lisa and Kristen were, considering Ally had bailed on all the girls. Always a wishy-washy girl. They had invited her mainly because they had been friends since grade school and well, Ally had overheard and butted into their conversation. They had really been left with no choice.

 The more Ana walked in her too high heels down the street the more she wished payphones were still popular. She also wished she had stayed with Lisa and Kristen, wherever they had gone. Ana was only nineteen, not old enough to legally drink, but Kristen's boyfriend was legal, and he always managed to bring them what they requested whenever they were together. Ana concluded that she had just passed out from whatever alcohol was in her system, and that was why she couldn't remember anything aside from getting dressed to go out, not the actual going out part.

 Wait, that sign looked familiar. West Street, Chestnut Avn. Yes! Ana now knew where she was going. Chestnut Avn. was just a few blocks away from her house on Willard Street. With a sigh of relief, she made her way down the block.

 She was going to be fine, and when she got home her doting nurse mother would take her to the hospital, let Ana borrow her phone, and call Lisa and Kristen to make sure they were okay. Maybe ask them what had happened before she blacked out. Ana wasn't sure if she really wanted to know the events that went on that night. She knew one of them would bring it up eventually anyway. Still, Ana planned on avoiding the embarrassment for as long as she could.

 After a good twenty minutes of walking, she estimated anyway, she could see her house in the distance. She couldn’t help it, she took off her shoes and went running to the homey, two story colonial and unlocked the door as quickly as she could. When Ana burst in, she dropped her heels at the entrance and leaned against the closed door, her breathing heavy.

 She did it, she was home and she was safe. She deposited her purse on the entryway table and made her way into the kitchen, flicking on the lights as she did. First things first Ana checked the clock on the stove. 4:50 a.m. Damn . . . she had stayed out all night? Her parents would be furious. They would be getting up at about five for their jobs, and Ana was not looking forward to that conversation when they came downstairs and saw her covered in dirt and blood.

 Ana went to the fridge and pulled out some iced tea, pouring herself a nice tall glass. She was halfway through it when an obnoxious male voice shouted from behind her. She spun around, dropping her tea in the process. The glass shattered on the floor, her drink now soaking her legs. Ana wasn't paying attention to that though. She was too stunned looking at the television to clean up her mess.

 The TV was turned up as loud as it could go, and 69 News was on. The lead anchorman was on the screen. He seemed to be yelling the news at her, and Ana flinched as she got closer, reaching for the remote and dialing it down a few notches.

 "Three Manhattan teenagers had been reported missing early this morning. Lisa McCain, Kristen Kelleher, and Ana Walcott. The bodies of Miss McCain and Miss Kelleher have since been discovered in a dumpster in an alley on Fifth Avenue just hours ago."

 Ana hopped up from the couch before she could hear more and made a beeline for