The smell of warm baked apple pie vastly differed from the overall eeriness in the room. When I think of apple pie, I have a particular image in mind. One filled with laughter and cheer inside of a cozy wooden cabin. One where the moon shined brightly as the delicate snowflakes fall on dark evergreen trees amongst the lonely hilltops, however right now the scene wasn't as cheery, not in the slightest. The situation was rather frightening. Let me paint you a slightly different picture than before. The smell of the warm apple pie was riddled with the scent of fresh blood. The bright moon shined over our cabin as though it was playing its part in unveiling the truth, while the snow was being vigorously tossed by the frigid wind. This was the true reality of the situation.  

Yellow tape was strung around the place like candy in a candy shop. People in white hazmat suits were taking pictures as though they were the paparazzi. Police officers yelling in their walkie-talkies with stern looks on their faces. All the while me and my two, supposed, friends sat on the new off-white couch in the main corridor. We were dressed up, obviously, for the book release of the century. My middle school friend, Aiyden, was a rising writer with much promise in his perspective field, murder mysteries. He had a new book about to release and us being his most trusted people, he gave us the unreleased book three weeks in advance to come together on the day of publishing and commemorate his latest to-be success story. Of course, today was the day of his downfall instead. My hands start to tremor and I feel my eyes start to sting with tears. 

A sudden loud voice interrupts my thoughts, “Oh hello folks! Sorry to keep ya waitin”. He wasn’t from here, you could tell. It was a deep male voice smothered in a heavy southern accent or at least an accent far away from the hilltops of Minnesota. I looked at his face, he had rugged ginger hair with a similarly rugged ginger beard hanging onto his chubby white face. He looked to be about forty to forty-five, but I could never tell age. My hands continued to tremor, thus I slightly tucked them into the pockets of my shimmery green dress. 

“Well, Imma just get into it. Your pal, Aiyden, was murdered. That much ya should already be aware of.” he took a long and daunting pause whilst rummaging through his stack of black and white papers, and after what seemed like an eternity he said, “And we have quite the reasonable suspicion to believe that one-a you were the one whodunit.” My face seamlessly frowns even further. I didn’t want to even consider the idea that my closest friends decided to do such an unspeakable thing, especially to such a dear person.

I sorrowfully looked up from my lap only to find the unreleased book of our late friend Aiyden laying there in all of its glory and awe. Alarms start going off in my mind. We had taken all of the remaining books four books and hidden them. We even went as far as to stop the publication from happening today. I slightly glance over to the ginger officer who was busy explaining the situation of the gruesome murder. I let the stinging tears fall. Sobbing loudly as I reach over for the precious spiral-bound book. Naturally, the attention had turned towards me. The officers voice slowly trailed off as I am faced with a mix of concerned and blank faces, however, I disregarded everything as I cried my heart out clutching onto the last memory of someone who had brought my dark world light in times of hardship. 

I remember the time when I was fired from my first job as a barista in a local coffee shop. I came back to my dingy small apartment in New York, only to find an electric bill that was three months overdue taped onto my front door. I sighed and opened the creaky brown door just to unveil the unpleasant sight of my chaotic living room. I smiled. I smiled ear to ear as I let out a exuberant laugh that boomed through the thin and dirty walls of this god-awful establishment. If anyone else had seen me they would have thought I was a mad-man. Someone who had gone wild and turned into a psychopath. Perhaps they were right. After a good minute I had enough and turned towards the direction of the two rooms where I found the three people looking at me with no amusement nor concern in their eyes. 

“Let me guess, you were fired.” said Mark with a cocky smirk, “I told you so, with that attitude of yours you cant do anything.” Mark was a tall 6’1” average white boy with dirty blond hair that fell over his eyes, although that could just be because of the lack of money to go to a braber. He was scrawny in a sense and heavily lacked in basic humor, but he could never acknowledge that. 

“Like you’re any better.” I snap back. Next to mark stood a vastly shorter girl who had wavy black hair with dark brown eyes that seem to peirce through your skin. She was of asian origin, fierce and bold. She was the no nonsense type person. The one time you could catch the mask slip would be when she was drunk. With her iconic never-changing monotone expression on display, “And you, Lin, don’t you even dare say something right now.” I barked. She rolled her eyes, but continued to watch intensely with a subtle spark of interest forming in her eyes. 

“What do you want now? Geez, if we are going to continue living together then we need to, in the least, NOT SCREAM!” Aiyden yelled infuriated. I was taken aback, generally he was the type to be on the more rational and calm side of things. He was what you could call the “sane one” of the four of us, although he gets mad he rarely ever breaks character. He was also tall and 6’1.25” he’d say - just to be taller than Mark- but we all knew that wasn’t true. He was of african decent, with rich and dark skin that resembled the color of coffee beans. His short black hair came in subtle waves. He also had a deeper voice than most which instilled a sort of fear in people. 

Though I was boiling with rage on the inside, I made a half-baked attempt at an apology. This seemed to be enough for Aiyden as his expression reverted back from anger. I slowly made my way over to the previously off-white couch that is now a ceder-brown. After a bit I said, “Don’t you think that we are held captive by the expectations of society?” I took an overly dramatic pause, “I mean, society has deemed us to be the scum of the earth. Why appease them? Who are they for us to beg for their approval? If they already think that we’re the lowest, can’t we just embrace it and use it to our advantage? I met someone, all we have to do is kill one person, one person, and we’ll be set…come on, you have nothing else to lose! We can’t even afford food.”. At this point I sounded as though I was pleading for forgiveness from a higher power. Desperation. That was the feeling that overtook me. Of course it took a while - 3 months and 12 days - but they eventually agreed after meeting me at rock bottom.

Just imagine, me, a slender 5’8” arabian girl, with soft and innocent eyes that implore you to keep her safe. A hard worker who was willing put in the hours and days it takes for success…doing murder? You can’t right? Even if you could, the middle eastern cop who has faced the racist injustices of our American society couldn’t. Perhaps it was evil to have planned to take advantage of such sympathy and compassion. Regardless of our method, we walked away with a staggering 2.5 million dollars and a presine criminal record. 

We were careful. Took extra care in making the money clean and fresh like untouched glass protecting a precious diamond. I’m not saying any part of it was easy, not by any means. It was a long and gruesome journey, surprisingly, with many moral and ethical struggles as we were trying to accomplish our “villainous” goal, however the only true issue was that we couldn’t stop. We became ravages who thrived on the forthcoming despair of others. Demons whos moral compass was set straight to hell. We became quite exceptional at our “jobs”. The four of us pretended to be a part of the elitist society for many years, that was until we became a vital key to all events that happened there.

We had evidently found our share of monetary success. We lived lavishly, splurging on on making every little crevice of our life radiate with excitement and wealth. It was as though time itself had paused to show respect for our grand achievements, but it didn’t. Regardless of our delusions, time had passed. Rather quickly in my opinion. We grew old to the point of boredom having done all there is to do in such a small and insignificant world. Thus we all started to partake in our own versions of leisure pastimes. 

Aiyden’s pastime was writing. He would write the days and weeks away in a cozy cabin amongst the lonely hilltops. Naturally, he started to publish his works. He didn’t think nor expect much of it, for that reason, he was stunned to find a large audience of readers start to form. That is, of course, along with the numerous awards and medals he received. 

I could never understand his bewilderment at the situation. To me, it was only reasonable considering the genre of his writings. Murder mysteries. As a person who has witnessed and felt the feeling of taking a life first-hand, he would undoubtedly be able to write it with realistic detail. The detail seemed raw and unfiltered to people who live their lives on repeat without the break of true excitement. 

Lin went on to dance. She acquired a level of grace I could barely even dream of. Her limbs would move as though it was made of waves. Waves told stories she could never express with words. Mark on the other hand started university. We were all puzzled by his decision at first, he despised living the average life filled with mundane tasks. The mere mention of it used to put him in a frenzy for hours. However it seems that all of us had changed, we weren't the broke, scum of the earth group of friends that bickered at every chance they got anymore. 

No matter the maturity of a person they make mistakes. Two days before the party to commemorate Aiyden’s latest to-be success story, I had made a horrid mistake. My pass time was the most peculiar of the bunch, I was a social rights activist. The other three had been dumbfounded by my questionable decision, more than Mark’s. The only answer I had for them was the pure irony of it. The feeling of saving desperate lives by changing mere laws with the knowledge that nothing would happen to me if I were to break them gave me unimaginable strength. Perhaps I am a psychopath. Too late to change anything now. My mistake was upsetting an officer who had handled our case a few months ago. This evidence points directly at Aiyden.

After hours of combined alarm and hysteria from the four of us, Lin had thought of a solution. We could fake Aiyden’s death before any allegations were made. The only problem was that we couldn't prepare a foolproof plan in due time. However, the answers were held in the unreleased spiral-bound book. All we had to do was follow the given script. The story already entails the details. That’s exactly what we did. Aiyden could start a new one. 

The ginger officer neals next to me with sympathy and concern. I had been crying whilst clutching onto the glorious spiral-bound book for enough time. Looking around with eyes of sorrow, I wipe my somber tears as I play the perfect character just as I always have. An actress in a never-ending movie. I guess Mark was right, the only problem I have is that nasty temper mine.