Dear "Secret Keeper",

Who the hell are you? Why are you doing this? How did you find out?

What the hell do you want?

-Vera Reinhart

I killed Jason Hargrove.

And now I am attending his funeral as one of his long time best friends.

Everything happened so fast. He was killed Thursday, found to be murdered Saturday, autopsy finished Sunday, and finally being buried by Monday evening. 

I had no idea what I was going to be like during the funeral, but I tried to prepare myself to the best of my ability. I couldn't show an ounce of weakness or regret or David Kleizmick was sure to pick up on it.

I was starting to feel a little more confident after I had written the note to Secret Keeper and left it in my locker. I checked up on it later in the day to find it gone. There were only a few people who knew my locker combo so I had no idea how they figured it out. Unless they helped out in the main office, but very few people did that. Or maybe they were closer to home than thought.

No. Shut up. It isn't possible.

By the time I got home there still hadn't been any letter in the mail. Maybe they were shocked by my response and trying to figure out how to reply. The thought gave me a boost of confidence.

My father and Vincent both wore black suits as my mother and I wore our dresses. I had taken Alyssa's advice and scrapped the hat and let my hair down.  I had to admit, Alyssa was right. My hair was pretty.

The Kelizmick's sent us a limo with a fully stocked fridge that my brother had immediately raided. Normally, I would've joined him, but today I felt like puking. My hands shook and I clasped them together firmly as I desperately tried to shop. I was feeling light headed as we pulled up to the fancy building. I stepped out, shakily and repeated a few lines over and over again.

I didn't kill Jason. I didn't kill him. I didn't kill him. It was all a movie. I didn't kill him.

Slowly, my heart beat went back to normal and the world felt less dizzy as I stood straight. That was close. I wasn't sure how long I could keep it up for.

The faster I get out of here, the better.

The first thing I noticed were the police. There were dozens of them lining the walls and watching your every move. One of their eyes set on me and I started to panic.

What if they know? What if they were waiting for me? What if secret told them because of the note I sent? What if they could just look at me and know that I killed him? What if they could read my mind?

The police officer turned away and I caught my swirling thoughts.

Don't be stupid. He can't read my mind. Get a grip.

Besides, I didn't kill Jason.

We walked into a lobby of sorts where people were milling around. The guest house that Mr. Kleizmick had bought for this specific occasion was magnificent enough to be an actual house. Golden evening light flooded in through the windows, their rays falling on the dozens of paintings. Waiters carried drinks to and fro. All things considered, the group was quite small. The Kleizmick's must've been very selective for the funeral.

We walked to the far end of the lobby, through a set of french doors and into a more modern looking room. The ceiling was tiled and lined with LED light strips that resembled the gold lighting. There were a couple chairs in the corners but the area was mostly spacious. At the front of the room, on a circular platform, was Jason's body.

He was lying in an open black and gold casket that must've costed a house. Dozens of white flowers lied on the ground all around the casket. A metal railing prevented anyone from stepping inside the circle. There was only one opening and it was protected by armed guards. They had a list in their hands, possibly of who were allowed to get close to Jason. I swallowed.

"Alex! Olivia!" a voice called. My blood froze and my breathing hitched.

I didn't kill Jason.

Almost immediately, I went back to normal. I seemed to have been getting better.

I turned to face the man that was Jason's father. David Kleizmick was the sort of man you would cower away from. His brown hair and green eyes managed to make him look charming for the press, but in person, his eyes could look straight through your soul. He was the one Jordan got his skills from, and as always, the original was the best.

Still, I managed to give him a weak smile. Mr. Kleizmick smiled back and Elizabeth Hargrove stepped next to her husband.

"Thank you guys so much for coming," she told us.

"Always," my mom told her and they hugged.

"And now you've successfully quoted Harry Potter," I mused. I was starting to feel a little more at peace with Mrs. Hargrove around.

Mr. Kleizmick ruffled my hair gently, "Nice to see you still haven't changed."

Trust me, I've changed more than you could ever imagine.

I didn't kill him.

"She never does," my father smiled and the two men started talking.

"You guys can go say your goodbyes to Jason. You're all on the list," Mrs. Hargrove told Vincent and I and pulled my mother away.

I turned to Vincent as he stared at the casket. I had no idea what was going through his mind but I was falling apart, piece by piece as I tried desperately to put everything back together.

I was his killer. He was here, in this state because of me. I didn't deserve to say goodbye. I didn't deserve to be standing here, at his funeral. I deserved to be rotting in a jail cell as family gave me their wrath.

I didn't kill him.

Vincent grabbed my hand and slowly started walking towards the guards. I was tempted to turn around and run out the door but then maybe people would get suspicious. I let my brother drag me to the guards and they asked for some identification. I pulled my student ID from my phone case and showed it to them. They gave my brother a once over and decided to let us in.

I didn't kill him.

We climbed the few steps up onto the platform. The flowers made a narrow path along the platform to where his casket was flipped open. The sent of the flowers wafted up my nose as I followed my brother to his casket. A shiver went up my spine. My heart was beating faster and faster.

I didn't kill him.

My hand was sweating as it held Vincent's. We reached Jason's body.

I didn't kill him.

Jason's body had a sort of etheral glow as he was surrounded by the white flowers. He had his eyes closed, his arms folded across his chest. He looked different dead. The lines on his face made it look like he was set into an eternal scowl, a contrast to his usually smiling demeanor. The part where his head was injured was covered and matted over with his golden hair. There was something about him that made me scared, made me want to hide in my closet. The air around him made him seem like he was a ghost ready to haunt the living nightmares out of me.

Maybe he was.

I didn't kill him.

My heart rate slowed back to normal and all the emotions that had been present mere moments before were gone and replaced with nothing. It was a void of empty darkness with no way in, no way out. I felt Vincent's hand tighten around mine and I looked at him to see silent tears spilling down his cheeks.

I didn't kill him.

All thoughts of Jason fled as I wrapped my arms around Vincent. How could I have been so stupid? So selfish? I knew Vincent had held Jason at such a high place. He was the first person outside of our family who treated him like everyone else. Vincent idolized the group's golden boy more than the rest of us. And instead of being there for my brother I was concerned with myself and how I killed him.

I didn't kill him.

Vincent's crying became full fledged sobs as he fell to the ground, taking me down with him. We collapsed on the floor, me holding him tightly as he became a crying mess. But yet, I couldn't seem to cry. The only thing I could feel was sympathy for my brother. This was wrong. I didn't want that. I wanted to feel something, anything, but nothing came. But this was how it had to be.

I didn't kill him.

I felt a hand on my back and looked up to find Tyler kneeling next to me. He wrapped his arms around me and my brother. The rest of them joined in and we became a pile of mourning messes. Still, I didn't cry. I couldn't cry.

I didn't kill him.

Finally, they stopped crying and we pulled away, suddenly aware of all the eyes set on us.

Mr. Kleizmick cleared his throat, his expression blank and formal.

"Children," he said. "It's time for the procession."

Hundreds of black cars and limos lined the roads as Jason's casket was carried to his grave. From the crowd lining the roads, it looked like the entire urban center showed up to watch his procession. As cameras flashed outside the car windows it finally hit me. Jason was the son of the most powerful man in the world. He was a beloved aspiring singer. He was a TV actor. He was everything anyone ever wanted to be. If anyone had ever found out what really happened, if they had found out that I killed him, all of these people and more would take his side. They would hate me for eternity. I would never have a peaceful life, not that I had one now.

It was me against the world.

His siblings gave their eulogies as thousands of people watched from the distance and from their TVs. Camera lights flashed across the cemetery as he was lowered into the ground and his body was covered back up.

It was after his casket was safely buried that everything went wrong.

A police officer made his way to the front and turned to address the guests.

"Hello everyone," he spoke. "My name is Officer Smith and I'm the leading detective of Jason Hargrove's case. I'm sorry for having to do this today at such a difficult time for all of you, but this must be done if we want to find justice for Jason."

My heart started to pound.

"As you all may know, we have determined that Jason's death may have been manslaughter. However, due to Jason's excellent martial arts skill, we believe the assailant was someone close to him."

They know it's me.

Collective gasps sounded all around from the guests and the onlookers who were latching onto every word that came out of the police officer's mouth.

They know it's me.

"So, after speaking with Mr. Hargrove's parents we've decided to take profiles of everyone personally invited, including the family. This is just a protective measure and you won't be logged into our records. We will be taking in your information to cross reference it with our evidence and cross you off the list of suspects. Please understand. I ha-"

"Wait!" a girl's voice interrupted him. I barely processed Julia standing up as I tried to stop the panic rising within me.

"Yes, Ms. Kleizmick?" Officer Smith asked.

"I have something to confess."

The cemetery was dead silent despite the thousands of people there.

"What is it?"

"I committed murder."

The crowd gasped and chaos erupted among the onlookers. People got to their feet and started to surge forward with a bombardment of questions. Julia's parents sat frozen in their seats, faces pale. My mind was whirling.

They're going to catch me.

What the hell is going on?

"Julia," Jordan stood up and made his way forward. "What are you-?"

Julia gave him a slight shake of head and he stopped where he was.

Julia turned back around to the rest of the crowd and faced the flashing cameras and the masses of people catching her every movement. She straightened her back, long brown hair blowing in the wind, black dress whirling around her, emerald green eyes firm as she opened her mouth and spoke the words that sent me into a downward spiral.

"I killed Jason Hargrove."

Vera: Vote if you want a funeral like Jason's.