Double Identity. by C.T. Merbien Full name please. Karen Diane Wood.

The blond-haired woman answering looked unsure of herself. Her interrogator jotted this down. How would you describe yourself, Miss Wood? Dangerous? Secure. Positive? Interchangeable. She fidgeted with the zipper on her jacket a bit. You seem unsure of yourself, Miss Wood. Do I? Its an old habit. Old habits die hard, dont they? She shifted her seating in the chair slightly. The light-complexioned woman sitting across from her eyed her oddly. Pardon me. If you dont mind me asking miss, what might your name be? I am not the one answering questions, Miss Wood. Karen suddenly slammed her fists on the metal table, her emerald green eyes flashing in unrecognisable anger. I dont care! What is your name? she shouted. Sophie Moss, Miss Wood. I am Sergeant Sophie Moss. Karens expression changed into one of complete fear. I...I am so sorry, Sergeant Moss. Are you alright? I dont know what came over me. Sergeant Moss gathered some of the scattered papers together. She fixed Karen with a hard glare, her hazel eyes glinting with confident command. You killed a person Miss Wood. You murdered a man. Did I? Oh dear. Is that what theyve come up with, your detectives? I swear, I didnt do it. His name was Dominic Morgan, Miss Wood. He was a teacher at Kingsford Community School. He had a wife and three children. Please, let me go? I didnt do it! Why dont you believe me? Im innocent! Our evidence tells different, Miss Wood. Sergeant Moss intertwined her navy blue painted fingers in front of her face with a frown. Her white button-down creased a little as her arms shifted, her black dress pants moving as she crossed her right leg over her left. So tell me Karen, why did you murder Mister Morgan? Karen stood up and paced back and forth behind the chair she was sitting in a few seconds prior. I dont think I did? I didnt! Or did I? I wouldnt! Or would I? Miss Wood, please sit down! Karen rounded on Sergeant Sophie Moss so abruptly, she would have toppled over if it had not been for the chair she was tightly gripping onto. I dont need to! Why are you doing this Sergeant? Im not at fault here! But everything always has to be my fault, doesnt it? Dominic Morgan thought everything was my fault! Is that why I hated him? Maybe I did kill him! Who knows? I dont! Why would I know? No...I did do it! Wasnt it I who always brought him his lunch in the mornings? Im his step-sister! Oh, I hated him, didnt I? Hated him to the core! Maybe thats what drove me to get rid of him? Or maybe, just maybe, it was the way he looked at me, as if I was the one to blame for everything that went wrong in his life! What did I do? Nothing! What had I done? Absolutely nothing! Sergeant Sophie Moss decided to end it all then and there, pulling her gun from its holster and firing it immediately. The confession she had gotten from Karen Diane Wood was all she needed. She stepped over the dead body as she watched the sanguine liquid ooze into a puddle around it. The lovely woven white jacket Miss Wood was wearing was gradually staining a dark red, the huge

hole in her chest a definite sign that she would not have been able to survive the shot. Before exiting the dim room, Sergeant Moss crouched in front of the lifeless body of Karen Diane Wood. Sergeant Sophie Moss dipped her index finger in the thick, dark red substance, glancing slightly over at the wall already splashed with blood. She moved herself over to the blackening grey wall and ran her finger over it, returning to the growing puddle every now and then to recoat her fingers in more of her bloody paint. She repeated these actions until Here Lies Karen Diane Wood was written in large, bold letters. Underneath her markings was another pair of words: RACHE; REVENGE. ********** Running a hand through her partially blood-stained auburn hair, Detective Rosalind James exited the cramped crime scene. She approached her partner, Marcus Mills, with a box of leather-bound journals. Her pale green eyes followed his almost fidgeting movements. Our victim isnt much of a talker Marcus. And she most likely wont be for a very long time. Not from what we can see from the writings on the walls, at least. His head jumped up at the sound of her voice, curly wisps of jet black hair lightly brushing the tired sapphire eyes. Blimey Rosalind, what are you covered in? He was referring to the fact that her light grey dress pants and jacket, along with the violet blouse she was wearing were smeared in the dark reddening dye. The blood of a schizophrenic, Marc. Specifically, the blood of Miss Clara Grace Shaw, who believed herself to also be a woman named Karen Diane Wood, as well as a Sergeant named Sophie Moss, and a man named Dominic Morgan, who apparently went missing a few weeks ago. Must have gone completely mad, the poor girl, because she ended up cutting her left wrist and then shooting herself clean in the chest. How do you know? The evidence. How else? She shook the box a little, the books rattling together. Shes also got journals. Shes been writing in them for years now. Most of the things she wrote about happened in her mind, of course. So she was...all three of those people? Rosalind nodded. Freaky. Ought to be a series of books, her journals. Sort of sounds like a series from what she wrote in them. Marcus gave a small snort. Come on Rose, dont muck about. A journal turned into a book? How do you come up with this stuff? The look she gave showed how serious she really was. I dont. But Clara did. Here. She handed Marcus one of the small blood-splattered, leather-bound books, which he immediately saw the front cover of. In tiny, curling gold letters, it read, RACHE: A Double Identity.