A Grave Promise | Teen Ink

A Grave Promise

April 26, 2024
By Jalynney BRONZE, Toronto, Ontario
Jalynney BRONZE, Toronto, Ontario
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

One of her dearest friends was murdered five months ago. The incident traumatized Spencer so much that she was never the same again. She hated everyone and never tried to communicate with others. Her face bore a cold expression and her bottomless eyes could pierce a person’s heart. She suffered from delusions as she spent her days in a bleak, dark room alone, merely gazing at the faint silvery crescent moon in the night sky. Her sunny disposition disappeared the day her friend passed away. Everyone at her high school assumed she was the one who killed her beloved friend. Spencer tried to explain what had happened, but no one believed her. Only she knew the truth.

 Five months ago, Rosedune High School had a sophomore graduation party on a late Friday night. Spencer and her best friend, Melinda, strode down the streets because they wanted some fresh air. They conversed, laughed, and relished their time, until a Toyota SUV came screeching around the bend and sent them both flying several feet, rendering them unconscious. When Spencer came to, she perceived what looked like a bright metal object in the hand of a black-masked man who was exiting the car. When Spencer narrowed her eyes, she saw a faded lion tattoo on the man's wrist. Obscured by darkness, she was unsure what it was, but she imagined it was a knife. Although her head was throbbing, she forced herself up from the ground and stumbled over to where Melinda’s lifeless body lay, blood emerging from her stomach. The glint of the knife caught Melinda’s eye and realized it was already too late. Scurrying to Melinda’s side, Spencer placed her hands over the wound, frantically trying to stop the blood, her eyes darting around her surroundings as a plea for help. The street was empty. 

“Please Melinda, please. You can’t leave me! I already lost my parents. I can’t lose you too-” Her face contorted in agony, her chest heaved, her throat contracted. She struggled to swallow her saliva. The blood gushed from Melinda's stomach, making Spencer very uncomfortable. She grasped Melinda’s hand tightly. Melinda choked Spencer’s name and looked at her with red and painful eyes.

Melinda’s shuttered eyes, crescent moons, shone, but they were not looking at Spencer. Spencer directed her gaze toward the foliage lining the street, but didn’t know what Melinda was looking at. Spencer’s eyes welled up with warm salty tears as she bristled with anger, blurring her vision. She bit her lip so hard that it bled. Overcome with despair and wooziness, she imagined a masked figure approaching her, and then darkness shrouded her. 

Awakening, Spencer heard the dull whispering of two nurses, perceived the blinding whiteness of the ceiling and walls, and smelled the bitter odor of antiseptic. She squeezed her eyes shut to will her head to cease the throbbing. Without, she could see a throng of individuals – her classmates, police officers, and nurses – their expressions forlorn. When the police realized that Spencer had regained consciousness, they approached her with a stern look.

“We need to ask you some questions about last night…about why you and Melinda…about her murder…and about the knife,” said Detective Brown.

Her heart stopped and chills went down her back. Glimpses of last night flashed through her mind. 

“The evidence shows that you murdered Melinda Burts.” 

Spencer’s brows furrowed and she gritted her teeth. She repudiated their accusation. The police informed her that they had evidence. Spencer slapped the table hard and her headache began to worsen. How could that be possible? 

“Melinda’s blood and skin were found on your clothing and under your nails. Your fingerprints are on the murder weapon.” 

She explained every detail of last night to the officers and even described the lion tattoo on the man’s wrist. As expected, no one believed her. After a few days, she was taken into custody. Shoved into a jail cell, the metal door clanging shut, Spencer surveyed the sheetless mattress, tarnished sink, and stained toilet, exhaled and then walked to the barred window and peered up to the ominous clouds. She was just beginning to sense the gravity of her situation.

Three months later, Spencer was released, but the police put an electronic monitoring ankle bracelet on her right ankle and recited the restrictions she would have to heed. On the first day back from summer break, she took a deep breath and stepped foot in Rosedune High School. When she entered, whispered accusations resounded, “murderer”. Noticing their admonitory stares, Spencer’s face darkened. 

She saw a girl with red eyes and fists clenched, approach. Shocked, the girl struck Spencer’s face hard. She waved her fist on Spencer’s face, hitting her cheekbone hard. “You MURDERER!” 

Murderer, murderer, murderer. Spencer's mind was reeling; bloody images filled her eyes. Those helpless eyes from Melinda, blood streaming down her stomach, and petrified screams overflowed her head. Sometimes…she wished she could be like the others, normal people who lived a normal life.

Two months later, a grave of fallen leaves veiled the hardening ground. The air was biting and portentous. Spencer checked the calendar, and it had been exactly five months since Melinda's death. She let out a solemn sigh and took out her medication. She was startled to hear a ding outside her door. Opening the door, she was confronted by two policemen who told her that new evidence had been found to corroborate her story about the tattooed man and that they needed her to come to the police station. 

Spencer was taken into a room and told that she would be shown a lineup of suspects. When the suspects were paraded into the room, she knew immediately that number three was the man she saw stab Melinda.

“It was so dark that night and with the concussion, I’m just not sure. I just don’t know. I’m so sorry. I wish I could be more help,” Spencer told the officers. 

Spencer lingered outside the police station until the man exited the building. She tailed the man in her parent’s car. The sun was beginning to descend, its slanting rays casting a warm orange hue in the sky. As she drove, she noticed that this road seemed familiar. The Toyota SUV squealed to a stop. Stunned, Spencer ducked down in her seat to evade detection, but to no avail. As the man approached Spencer’s car, she slipped out the passenger door, crawled under the car, and waited. The crush of his boots on the gravel road alerted her to the man’s proximity. Spencer immediately reacted, cutting the tendon on the back of his foot, stood above the man who had fallen to one knee, and sliced his neck. The man’s expression was one of shock and then recognition. The blood, unrelenting and remorseless, was divine justice. 

"Melinda, I kept my promise," she said with watery eyes, looking at the sky ablaze with the fire of the setting sun. "You can rest in peace now." 

With the man’s last breath, Spencer placed the gore laden knife in his hand, removed her gloves, set the latex gloves on fire in a nearby metal trash can, got in her parents’ car, and drove home. 

Spencer was startled awake by a ringing noise next to her nightstand. She picked up the phone and placed it near to her ear, exhausted.

“Hello?”

“Hi, I’m Detective Brown from the Rosedune Police Department. One of the suspects in the lineup has been found dead. We found some evidence on his laptop linking him to Melinda’s murder and his GPS puts him at the scene on the night of the crime.”

Spencer asked, “How did he die?” 

“His neck was sliced open and a tendon was severed. He had a knife in his hand, so we are assuming he killed himself. His hard drive had pictures of several young women, Melinda included. We are now working with other forces across the country to identify the others.”

Spencer breathed a sigh of relief and smiled into the receiver, “Thank you for letting me know.”

A week later, Spencer's innocence was confirmed by the police and announced to all Rosedune High School students. She returned to school with apprehension.

“I’m Joyce! I’m uh sorry about punching you… I hope you can forgive me,” she scratched her head embarrassingly. 

“It’s okay. I’m just glad they caught the guy.” 

They chattered and for the first time she can remember since her best friend’s murder, the corners of Spencer’s mouth lifted.

The first breath of autumn was in the air, the earth blanketed with a colorful reminder of death and the promise of life, Spencer sat on a park bench, inhaled and exhaled, and gazed out at the vast ocean.

"Melinda, wherever you are, you will always be a part of me.”


The author's comments:

This heart-wrenching piece was inspired by the complex ways in which we deal with tragedy and the lengths we might go to find closure. I hope readers leave with an understanding of the many layers of pain and resilience that shape us after loss, and perhaps a conversation about the moral ambiguities we face while seeking what feels like justice.


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