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Reading books MYSTERY & CRIMEHowever, all readers - sooner or later - find for themselves a literary genre that is fundamentally different from all others.
An astonishing number of readers read mystery and crime.
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Read books online Ā» Mystery & Crime Ā» The Other Me by Monkwalk (big screen ebook reader txt) šŸ“–

Book online Ā«The Other Me by Monkwalk (big screen ebook reader txt) šŸ“–Ā». Author Monkwalk



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delicately off the bracelet. I didnā€™t know why, but I thought I recognised it. I wracked my brain, trying to think of where I couldā€™ve, but there was nothing I could recall.
The family were wrecked by the time I returned the bracelet to them. I think I triggered some memories of their daughter, which they had been trying ignore for sometime. I left hastily, not wanting any of my sorrow for Tara to resurface.
My head spun as I tried to work out why someone would murder her. Her profession was a teacher, no connections to anything important.
So, what singled her out as a victim?
The only clue I had was that charm bracelet; which made me wonder ā€“ what if I was just being paranoid? What real evidence did I have? Coincidences happen all the time, right? Six women killing themselves in a few months isnā€™t so strange.
Except it is.
None of the women had a history of mental illness, or depression. None of them had any reason to kill themselves. One person is strange enough, but five? And in such a short timescale, why was no one suspicious?
I realised that I wasnā€™t coming to any kind of conclusion so I gave up. I stopped in a hotel for the night, as my I remember my boss telling me to report on the lake nearby it I vaguely noticed the still water, as I slumped in to my bed and fell asleep.
ā€˜Go onā€¦do it.ā€™ echoed through my brain.


Chapter 5

I feel so alive now.
ā€œI am aliveā€ My mind was racing a million time faster that I have ever been before. I jumped out of bed threw on some old clothes and snuck out in to the open air. Over across the Lake I saw my target, Hannah was in sight and in reach. Iā€™m doing her a favour, she doesnā€™t deserve to live her life was never worth it.
Slowly, I crept across the grassy over grown paths. I felt the occasional twitch, I never have complet control but I know how to get it, I deserve control, ā€œI NEED CONTROL!ā€ Shut up, we mustnā€™t be heard. Now I must make it quick and more importantly silent, of course, I am the silent killer. I twitch again.
With in a metre of her now and she doesnā€™t know that I am here!
Gun in hand, and moving in. I raise it and pause. It has got to look like an accident, I was never here.
I kicked here legs out from under her, Hannah, my last victim. She rolls along the ground in a bid to escape but I was faster. I have her and push her in to the lake. It was a mirror but I have shattered it.
As I sit by the lake I wondered how she will die. Smiling, I wonder whether she will drown or die of the cold. I hope it will be slow, slow and painful! Now I wait, Iā€™m not worried about the police. I can wait to see her go. ā€œHelp, Helpā€ she screams. ā€œShut upā€ I whispered to her.
I wait, and wait and wait as the cold gets to her. She stops struggling and sinks below the surface of the water. Now I make my run. As I go my vision and my mind becomes blurred and I collapse.


Chapter 6
I wake in the hotel room my boss had got for me so I could write about this new hotel and its quality. I was in a cold sweat and. ā€œWow, what a horrible dream.ā€ Out the window I see a lake than has been cornered of by the police, I feel slightly sick and very tired while clambering out of bed. Making my way down with the idea of breakfast and getting a news paper. On the way down I saw a woman running up the stairs in tears, I was horrified and couldnā€™t think what on earth had happened. I continued down towards the reception to ask for a paper. The first thing I saw was she put it on to the oak desk was the headline. Another suicide. All at once the crying woman running up the stairs made sense. I felt broken.
The paper was left the paper on the desk and I walked back up to my room, I didnā€™t even realise I was walking, and with out breakfast I started on the mystery of the suicides again. When I sat down at my desk I noticed something about the pictures but I couldnā€™t work out what it was, I stared for a moment then it clicked, all of the women who had died were wearing a charm, the same charm when they died. ā€œI wonderā€¦ā€ I set off on the next clue, I was feeling so close but so far, I was so sure that this was it, sure that I was staring it in the face. I decided to go to the police.
I walked down the stairs with no sense of urgency, I was going to take my time, I would go on the bus, no I would get the taxi, there I would be able to think this mystery through with out all the noise. When I reached the ground floor, I made my way out of the big glass doors, the smell of east London was never pleasant and made me feel slightly light headed, I went in to a daze but someone walked in to me and snapped me out of it. On my way to the taxi rank it occurred to me that I might get a reward for linking these horrible cases. When I finally reached the police station I double checked that I had the photos of the dead women with the charms, I had them. I walked in.
As I walked up to the desk I had so many doubts about doing this.
ā€œHello Officerā€
ā€œHello Sir, what can I do for you?ā€
ā€œI have an idea about these terrible suicides.ā€
ā€œOk, I have heard it all before, but go on.ā€
ā€œAll of the victims were murdered by the same man; I know this because all of them were found with a charm around their neck, the same charms.ā€
ā€œDonā€™t be ridicules sir; charms are very common and very popular. Lots of people wear charmsā€
ā€œBut Iā€™m certainā€¦ā€
ā€œDonā€™t waste my time; I have other things to do!ā€
ā€œButā€
ā€œNo, get out!ā€
I left in a boiling, red hot anger, I wasnā€™t thinking clearly, I stumbled out in to the street and was lost.


Chapter 7

Bracelets in jewellery shops mean nothing to me. Confused? Maybe. Whatā€™s it to you?
Here before? Yes, familiar after all. That desk, that trite materialism, the same obsequious ā€˜Yes, Sirā€™, ā€˜Of course, Sirā€™ as if we donā€™t know they just want our money. But what is money anyway except a symbol for power and is that power anything compared to the power to give death to allow life to change eternity.
Coffee.
But where?
Caffeine baby coffee calm calmā€¦ sleep. Big mug more money, money and death. Want coffee: kill. Simple. No; not simple: I know that from my work. And that latest case, thereā€™s something so familiar about that. Stop it! Frenzied brain teasing me. Shut up. Oh God, please just shut up.
Veiled behind a castle of steamā€¦.my wall of ecstasy tumbles, crumbles to the ground. Stagnant, I observe what a slaved and failed over worthless. A web of lies spun from my mind a masterpiece of creativity only to be destroyed. By me. Ultimately self destructiveā€¦ tick tock tick tock. Heartbeats in time.
Synchronised with the seconds. Counting down, nearly there getting closerā€¦ BANG. And Iā€™m alone. With the whirring soundā€¦. Hear in my mind all of these words. And it breaks me.
Search for clues evidence of my insanity. Do you really care? Your fake smile it makes me laugh. Funny. Your trying to kid yourself Iā€™m normal, Iā€™m laughing so much that it hurts. No, really the pain is unbearable. A dull ache. Just kill it already. The voices. I want them to suffer. And now youā€™re telling me itā€™ll be ok. And Iā€™m sorry, sorry sorry. I donā€™t mean it but I do. Iā€™ll miss you. For all these years, you stayed faithful Iā€™m safe when you whisper in my ear. I know your waTching over me and governing my thoughts. Frenzied brain teasing me. I haTe you! I ā€¦. Iā€™ve got to let you goā€¦ than you for believing in meā€¦Iā€™m sorry. No! Donā€™t apologiseā€¦. I hate you. Me.
Youā€™re Weak.
ā€˜Iā€™m just going to ask you a few questions Tom.ā€™ Stop with the interegation. ā€˜Tell me about how you feelā€¦.howā€™s life? The spot lights on me. My time to shine. They whisper to me; a raging battle of good and evil. But who decides whatā€™s good and whatā€™s bad. Black and white. Fade to shades of grey.
And then think coffee. Sweet, bitter coffee. Itā€™s ok. Itā€™ll all be ok. Forgotten with the swirling steam.


Chapter 8
Tiffanyā€™s: the place where I bought my wife her engagement ring. A place for upper class rich citizens. So why has the murderer come here? The charms, they are all from Tiffanyā€™s, I saw them here on my way to work three months ago. How could a murderer afford this place?
As I walked into the building, I could smell that fresh scent of constant cleaning, making sure the jewellery stays perfect. There were those large, angry men, watching my every move. Their eyes on me as if their lives depended on it. Cases all around, displaying the precious jewels that may soon be bought. Beautiful jewellery was enclosing me, gleaming at me, blinding me, but I wasnā€™t there for them.
As I strode up to the desk, the worker smiled a genuine smile. ā€œHello there, nice to have you back!ā€ I was confused: back? How ā€˜backā€™? Why ā€˜backā€™? I was last in here six years ago, for my wife; she is gone nowā€¦ Putting all that aside, I remembered my mission. ā€œSomeone has been buying lettered charms from here; who?ā€ my voice firm and prepared, ready to continue my investigation.
ā€œIā€™m sorry, sir, but we donā€™t keep records of who buys what here, for security reasonsā€ still with that smiling face the answer came.
Heart racing, I tried to keep calm, I would find some answers here, I would find who murdered my wife. ā€œDo you have any CCTV cameras then? This is a very important matter, do you hear me?ā€ giving him that look, the look that said I wasnā€™t going away without answers. The young man looked nervous as he nodded and took me into the back room. This was it, I would have a suspect, I would be getting somewhere.
I braced myself as the videos started to play, what if I was shocked by the result, what if it didnā€™t work, what ifā€¦
There, there was the man, the man buying the charms. Sweat trickled down my forehead as I squinted, I had to see his face. His hair was messed up, unwashed and scruffy. Wide eyes, filled with craze, staring at the worker. His clothes were torn and old, looking as unwashed as his body. The face looked familiar, but where? The poor man outside Starbucks? The mental patient next door? Orā€¦ the screen went blank, but I saw remains of his face. How was he there? Was he in this room? My heart pumped, I couldnā€™t die, I needed to catch him. Why was he here? The room was closing in, heat was going up. I couldnā€™t breathe, I couldnā€™t see, I couldnā€™t
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