Chapter 6... Under the Influence

                                    

                                          
(Madison's POV)
Two days— that's how long I'd stayed in my room obsessing over the blood-soaked tire iron. I'd come up with scenario after scenario, trying to understand how it could've gotten into my room because I refused to accept that someone saw me murder Mason and was now delivering evidence to me. I even questioned if I'd brought the tire iron into the house myself. I was drunk and distraught that night, but not to the point where I would forget bringing a murder weapon into my own home. Then again, I didn't remember dropping it at the crime scene either. All I remembered was blood and Mason's lifeless body.
                          
Then there was the question of 'who'. Who was this mystery witness? Was it Ms. Kenn, my tenth-grade math teacher? Everyone knows that bitch didn't like me. Was it Olivia Chaze? Everyone knows that bitch didn't like me either. In the end, I had narrowed it down to two suspects, Will and Chris. They were at my house and while Will could have very much been the sick bastard doing this to me, my money was on Chris. 
                          
He just rubbed me the wrong way. From peeping into my bedroom while I was naked, to blackmailing me into admitting I was a murderer. He was a crooked cop and I didn't trust him. 
                          
"Mads?" Was that Carter's voice? What was he doing in my house? My bedroom door swung open and there he stood in the doorway. "Madison, are you okay?" He ran over to me. "You missed two days of school and you weren't replying to anyone's texts. I was so worried." He bent down to the floor where I was sitting and hugged me.
                          
"How did you get in here?" I asked.
                          
"I used the spare key you guys keep buried in a hole in the backyard."
                          
I looked at him suspiciously. How did Carter know there was a spare key? How did he know where to find it? Did he break in here and plant the tire iron in my room? I stood up abruptly, backing away from him and he furrowed his brows.
                          
"What is it?"
                          
"How did you know where the spare key was?"
                          
"Madison..."
                          
"Did you break in here? Did you put it under my pillow?"
                          
"The key?" Carter asked confused. He walked closer to me and I kept backing away. "Madison what is going on with you?"
                          
"I'm going to ask one more time. How did you know where the spare key was hidden?"
                          
"You told me! Remember a few months ago after Karen's party? You were drunk and you lost your key. You didn't want your dad to know you were wasted so you wanted to sneak in. You could barely walk so you told me where to find the key so that you could get into the house."
                          
He was right. The day after Karen's party, while I was recovering from a massive hangover, we laughed about how drunk I'd gotten, and Cater had told me he reburied the key in the exact same spot so my dad would never know. But that didn't mean Carter didn't plant the murder weapon in my bedroom. But that didn't make sense. Carter wasn't that kind of person. And if he had known I was a murder, he would have broken up with me and ditched me a long time ago. He might've even turned me in to the police.
                          
"What's that?" He asked, pointing behind me.
                          
I turned only to see the bloody tire iron lying on my dresser. I laughed nervously. "That's a prop from that play I was in. Remember?"
                          
"What play was that?" He asked. I didn't know how to answer that question. I could feel myself beginning to panic. "Mads, what's going on?"
                          
I suddenly squeezed my eyes shut, jumped on him, and kissed him. That was the only way I knew how to shut him up. He was so taken aback by the kiss that he almost lost his balance. Holding me with both hands, his back inched up against my window. My legs were wrapped securely around his waist and my hands grazed through his curls. He was so into it that he hadn't realized that my eyes were open the entire time. I looked up and out the window behind him, only to notice Chris, staring at us. I hopped off of Carter, screaming. Confused, Carter looked back as well.