I’m a nineteen year old Ugandan. I’ve written since forever. I love cats and dogs. I love chess. I love tennis. I have a weird love for astronomy. I love music, TV shows, movies, reading books, latest celebrity news.
I love every genre, apart from historical fiction. But I most especially love;
Platonic to romantic love. Hate to love relationships. I love fantasies. I love thrillers.
All in all, I like books that make me feel.
I hate historical fiction; especially stories based in times of war. I hate love at first sight relationship. I love a juicy build up. I hate books that take a hundred pages to become interesting ( who doesn’t)
Luke is what you’d call the bad guy. But it’s not until he murders a fellow student that he realises he actually is one. On his quest to redemption, he receives a list of names of people who start getting murdered one by one, his name at the bottom. Luke must do what he can to find the killer before its too late. But being one of the most disliked people in the school, and having dozens of haters, he didn’t know it wouldn’t be that easy.
Warning; Murder, Language, Violence.
Chapter 1
Luke
I’ve finally made my decision. I’m breaking up with Heather.
It didn’t take me much thinking. All it took was her and Dewey to stand right in my line of sight and look deep into each other’s eyes at this party, which they have quite successfully. I chose to ignore the rumors. I mean, she seemed the same to me. She still sent me ‘I love you texts’ and still gave me after class kisses every day. She didn’t show any signs of boredom or withdrawal to the relationship. So I decided to believe her and not the rest of the world. Maybe the rumors about her sleeping with Dewey were just that, rumors.
Until now.
Of course they haven’t seen me yet. And I want it to stay that way. As much as I hate it, I don’t want to destroy their moment. Yet I intentionally bump into Dewey’s shoulder hard when I walk past them. I don’t even look back to apologize. He’ll probably ignore it. This is a party, bumping shoulders is like tradition in parties.
I make a bee line for the half bottle of Tequila I spot on a table top. I made a bet with Richie that I will go through this party without getting drunk or high. But he’s too stoned and too lost in the tight crowd to notice. Besides, I’ve just broken up with my girlfriend, cut me some slack. (It’s official. She just doesn’t know it yet)
I finally upgraded to straight from the bottle drinking. I haven’t drunk in a while though. I only drink in parties and those come rare these days since this is our final year in high school and everyone is so serious now.
I squeeze through the tightly packed bodies as I try to find my way out. It’s so hot in here, like over a thousand degrees. The bass of the music is so loud it literally rattles the concrete floor. The place smells like weed mixed with a different assortment of deodorant sprays and perfumes. Damn, I need some fresh air.
I want to get rid of all these stories in my head. And trust me, they are A LOT.
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