I glanced up from the collage at him. You don’t think your friend could have mentioned this little sidenote a bit earlier? Now I understood why I was really here.
I hadn’t been home in almost two weeks. I guess it was possible that somebody could have died in there. But even still, it was more than shocking to bear witness to. This strange, faceless girl was shot dead, and in my hotel room. My things were still in it. I could see my favorite skinny jeans hanging over the side of the cheap navy bed-skirt, and the suede boots that I got in Berlin were still next to the bathroom door.
My German boots were covered in brain.
No, I thought. It can’t be. But it was. I didn’t understand exactly how, but this chick was dead in my room. I knew that for a fact- the boots were proof enough.
“Her name is Diana Raherty. Did you know her?” His voice became increasingly gentler with each word. There was Taz again, just not the real Taz. It was the Taz that made me think he cared. The Taz who was simply a fictional character I had only believed existed.