A Hidden Truth, by Sarah Pozzuto

The dark haired girl pulled her jacket tighter around her shoulders. How cold it was, on this brisk October night. Mother would be furious! No, she would be frightened. She would be calling the police right now, screaming hysterically.
She quickened her pace. If the police found out...if anyone found out....it would be the prison for sure. It wouldn't matter how old she was. She could picture the judge, bellowing from his position in the courtroom, making sure that everyone knew the truth. "Morgaine Thompson is a liar! A crook!" His voice would echo, bouncing off the walls in a chaotic manner. Poor mother would be in tears. "Oh, Morgaine! Oh, my sweet little Morgaine. Please, everyone, I know that she didn't do it! I just know! You didn't do it, did you Morgaine? Of course not!"
Morgaine would hang her head solemnly, staring at her scruffy brown sneakers, praying that it was all a dream. Because these accusations, they would all be true! For once in Morgaine's short life, she would be seen as the imperfect child.
"To prison!" bellowed the judge. The girls from school would whisper and point at her, and all of the snotty adults would look away as she walked by. Lydia Temple would reach out and touch Morgaine's shoulder, trembling and sobbing.
"Oh, Morgaine," she'd whisper, "how could you? You were my best friend!"
Morgaine shook her head, clearing out all those stupid thoughts. She wouldn't be caught, right? No one, not a soul, could ever know what had gone on that night. Morgaine would come up with some stupid lie to cover it up. Everything's going to be fine, she told herself.
But reader, as Morgaine Thompson walked down the road, she knew, in the very back of her head that everything was NOT going to be fine. She had wanted an adventure, and now she had one. Because running from the truth is perhaps the greatest adventure of all.


The boy with the brown hair and the pale blue eyes stared accusingly at Morgaine. How could she? He asked, just to himself. How could she have been so incredibly ignorant and selfish as to drag him into this? She was such a mean, hateful girl. He hated her, despised her. But...did he really?
"No!" Screamed his heart. "You love her! You love that she pulled you into this awful mess!"
"Yes!" Screamed his brain. "You hate her with every inch of your being! You loathe her entirely, and to be completely honest, I think she's horrid!"
"Shut up, both of you!" Screamed Nathan, his heart pounding, mind thumping.
"Us?" Whispered Morgaine, obviously hurt.
" I didn't say anything!" Protested the sandy-haired boy.
"Sorry, not you." Nathan said quickly.
Nathan hated when his heart battled his brain like that. He was always tangled in the middle, desperately lost without so much as a compass. As he walked between the boy and the girl, he felt guilt creeping up his spine. How could he be thinking about Morgaine at a time like this? He had just done the worst thing in the world, and here he was, acting like he didn't care. Of course he cared! Anyone in their sane minds would! He remembered the warmth of the oozing blood, and shuddered.
This guilt thing was way out of control. It was eating at him, eating him alive, and he couldn't get out. He pulled and pulled, but was stuck. Like quicksand, the horrible memories and thoughts were tugging at him. "Leave me alone!" He wanted to scream. But, like all good murderers, he knew better than to make a single sound.

The sandy-haired boy glanced nervously around him. Why had he ever agreed to this? Morgaine had talked him into it, and everyone knew how that worked. She had the voice, that voice that can twist your thoughts around and make you believe anything. Having a sister like Morgaine was impossible. How dare she mess around with his thoughts! He'd get her back for that.
The wind whipped through his long hair, making him shiver. "I hate this place!" He screamed, but not out loud. A voice was rising up inside of him, his tongue trembled with the words that wanted so desperately to come out.
"I just want...I want to go home!" The whimpering, pleading voice was real this time, tumbling out of his throat and tripping on his lips.
"Quiet, Ronan. We can't go home. Not ever again, understand?" Morgaine's voice comforted him, but the words were frightening. Horribly, terribly frightening. But perhaps most bone-chilling of all was the fact that the words were true. The three of them, those inseperable three, would never again see the long, winding roads of their town. Never again would Ronan see his mother and father, never again.
A tear trickled down his cheek, and he hurriedly brushed it away, hoping that Nathan hadn't seen. However, when he looked over, he saw that Nathan was crying too. And there, was that a tear in Morgaine's eye? Morgaine never cried. At this moment, Ronan knew that his life was over. His quiet, carefree life, always walking in the shadow of his energetic twin sister, that was over.
It was he, Ronan, that had pressed the knife to the man's throat. It was he, Ronan, that had broken the skin, causing three small droplets of blood to drip out. And it was he, Ronan, who held the shovel in his hand.
Was Ronan's life really over? No. Of course not. Life was only just beginning.

Okay, people. That was NOT the whole story, not at ALL! This is really only just the beginning, the prologue, as you might say, and the whole thing was kind of way to long too post on this blog. But I think I'll post a little bit of it every once in a while, just so it can finally be heard.