'Before the story begins, is it such a sin, for me to take what's mine, until the end of time?'
- 'A Little Piece of Heaven' Jimmy Sullivan/Matthew Sanders


Chapter 1: The Armstrongs.

"I'm sure we'll have fun, just please stop crying."
Sheridan was begging Alexandra to stop her moping whilst Max, Alexandra's older brother, walked into the room with a teddy, which he passed to Alex.
She stopped crying the instant she hugged it.
"Man! This kid is ten years old and already has more experience in childcare than me!"
Sheridan thought.

Sherri was a young woman of fifteen, and wasn't the type of adolescent known for partying and domestic destruction. She hated Corey Worthington; a teenager seen all over the news and given a celebrity status because he threw a party while his parents were out. She hated him because he gave teens a bad reputation. Sheridan had beautiful, wavy, brown hair. Her eyes were brown stars and gave a glow unlike any others, and mesmerized the fool who dared look into them. She wasn't tall but not short either. She was glad Max was still shorter than her and only up to her elbow; kids were growing too fast these days.
Max was a good kid. He took excellent care of his six year-old little sister Alex, and was kind to the babysitter, who in this case, just so happened to be Sheridan. Max had silky, medium-length, black hair. His clothes looked damn expensive. His sister had the same looks, just feminine, as seen in identical twins, which these kids could pass for.

"Goodnight Sherri!" The Armstrong children yelled, tripping as they climbed up the enormous marble staircase, leading to the second floor of the even bigger house.
The Armstrong Manor cost millions, perhaps billions to build, which confused Sherri because Mr. Armstrong was an insurance broker for a small brokerage in the middle of nowhere.
The second Sheridan thought of embarking on the perhaps endless journey for the plasma TV she had been looking forward to using, she heard a high pitched shriek, a little boy's terrified scream and immediately afterwards, her name being called through the house.
"Sherri! Sherri! Help us!"
Sheridan sprinted up the marble staircase, turned to her left and ran through what seemed an endless barrage of hallways until she heard the kids screaming again. Sheridan was terrified. This was her first time babysitting for the Armstrongs and she was already going to have to live with the kids being dead on her watch. These thoughts made her run faster. She ran through another dusty unused hallway that lead her to the kids. She ran up to them and hugged them both.
"What's wrong? Why did you scream?" Sherri questioned. She was still worried about what had happened, but she was so relieved that they were okay.
Max  answered her after a long pause. It seemed he had to summon a great deal of courage to say his next words.
"The clown…" He paused again and gulped,
"In my room."

Chapter 2: I Hate You, Stephen King.

"In your room? Why did you notice it just now? It was there before, wasn't it?" Sherri was asking too many questions for the poor children. She hugged them again.
The kids were both producing streams of saltwater from their little eyes.
Sheridan automatically felt a surge of leadership and paranoia come over her.
"Let me check it out," Sheridan felt an unexplainable sense of bravery.
"I want you both to go downstairs and into the study. Lock the door immediately. Make sure the windows are closed and blinds are drawn, don't make a sound. I'll come back soon and slip this under the door so you know it's me." Sheridan held up her necklace with a purple heartagram attached to it. "But first, Max, come with me, I need to know which one is your room. Alex, stay where you are."

Sheridan and Max walked slowly down a hallway, Sheridan was already pointing out flaws in her plan.
"What if they are caught on the way there? What if they don't lock the door, what if they don't even go to the study?" And then a most petrifying question came to her mind. "What if I don't make it back?" Sheridan chose to shake off these questions and finally ask Max which one his room was.
"That one." Max replied. He was pointing to the one at the very end of the hall.
Sherri motioned for him to go as she headed towards the room, preparing herself for anything.

It was half-past eight already and the kids would be asleep by now if it weren't for the disturbance.
Sheridan had walked to the end of the hall by now and creaked open the door. There it was.
A big clown staring at her from the end of Max's surprisingly big room. Its outfit was classic. Big floppy shoes. Pants and top covered in alternating colours and frills. The makeup was so old-school; Black lines near the eyes, white face, red lips and a big, red, obnoxious clown nose.
Sheridan hadn't seen many clowns face-to-face but she knew this was one.
There was a big, scary clown in Max's bedroom.

Sheridan could tell by the stillness of it that this clown was most definitely a statue. She exhaled with relief then walked down hallways until she reached the marble staircase. She was so glad it was a statue; she couldn't have dealt with a big, crazy serial killer. She walked down the staircase and over to the study. She slipped her necklace under and was let in by Max and Alexandra. She explained to the kids that it was just a statue and that their parents probably moved it in there that day and forgot about it. She then asked if there was a phone
"In the kitchen." Max replied.
"I'm tired…." Alex mumbled, then she slumped into the chair by the computer.
Immediately, Sherri asked them to do the same as before, and as she walked out of the study she heard the re-assuring click of the door locking. Sherri started for the kitchen, necklace in hand.

She arrived in the kitchen and picked up the phone in the corner. She dialled the number she was given by Mr. Armstrong, in case she needed to know something.
"Hello?" Mr. Armstrong's strong, low voice answered the phone.
"Hi Mr. Armstrong, it's Sheridan here, would it be okay if I covered the clown statue in Max's room with a sheet or blanket or something?"
Mr. Armstrong paused.
"We don't have a clown."
The phone line went dead.

Chapter 3: I'm Not Insane, I'm Not Insane!

"Hello? Hello…… Mr. Armstrong? HELLO?!" Sheridan panicked. She had no idea what to do, this could just be something wrong with the phone, but she'd seen enough bad horror movies to know that it wasn't. She slammed down the phone into the receiver and picked it up to listen for the dial tone. She could only hear cold silence.
Then a shiver went up her spine as if a ghost had moved through her. She wasn't alone in the kitchen.

She walked as calmly as possible to the study, trying to hide her extreme fear and paranoia.
There were a few mysterious noises on the way back to the computer room, such as doors shutting, floorboards creaking, and various thuds… whoever was behind this intrusion obviously wasn't good at it.
Or maybe they wanted her to know they were here.
More panic, fear and paranoia surged through Sheridan.
She then heard the creak of the door in the study and automatically started sprinting, this house was getting bigger by the minute. When she got there, the computer room door was wide open, and Alexandra was curled up in the chair, eyes wide with fear and shock. Sheridan ran to Alex and put her hands on Alex's shoulders,
"Alex! Where's Max?!" She exclaimed, slightly shaking her. There were tears running down Alex's face, but she didn't sob once.
There was a note on the table with some scribble all over it, but she didn't bother to read it yet.
"The big scary man, with the funny clothes, he came here. Max went with him. When he put Max inside, he told me not to scream. I didn't. I started crying and he cut me." She showed a massive cut in her arm, which seemed to have gone through to the bone, how could someone so little handle this much pain without screaming? Sheridan noticed the blood on Alex's pyjamas.
"Then he put the note there and started laughing. I don't know what was funny… Sherri, I'm so scared."
Sheridan instantly grabbed a bit of cloth from the corner of the room and wrapped it around the gash.
It was all happening too fast. It was lacking detail. It didn't make sense, but she knew if she should do anything, that she should call the police.
Sheridan picked up Alex, whose tears were soaking into her blood-stained pyjamas and walked slowly to the living room, where she had left her mobile phone, and her bag.
Is the clown still there? She thought.
Is he behind it all? Or was he just a statue? Sheridan started to feel light-headed with all of the questions running through her head.
Is he even human?
Sheridan stopped these thoughts before they could get more frightening.
She had arrived at the living room, and everything seemed normal. She sat down on the couch where her bag was and dialled 000, still holding Alex in her arms.
"Please state your emergency." The operator asked.
"Yes, a little boy that I'm looking after has been kidnapped."
"Do you require any assistance?"
"Yes, police please. And paramedics."
"Do you know the address?"
"38 Tholemew Avenue, Sunbury."
"Did you see the kidnapper?"
"I don't know, there was a large clown statue in one of the bedrooms that neither of the children had seen before."
"And is the other child okay?"
"No, the kidnapper cut her arm with a knife; I'm holding her right now."
"What did the clown look like?"
"He had big floppy shoes, his pants and top were covered in different colours and frills. Black lines near his eyes, white face, red lips and a big, red, obnoxious clown nose."
"And the boy? What does he look like?"
"His name is Max, he is 10 years old, he has medium length black hair, and he's wearing his pyjamas."
"And your name?"
"Sheridan Rischitelli."
"Police will be there as soon as possible."
Sheridan hung up.

About 10 minutes later the police arrived. Two cars. Sherri only expected one.
There were six police in total. One was female.
Two of the most generic policemen Sheridan had ever seen walked over and started questioning her, whilst the woman stayed by the car, holding Alex, and the other policemen walked inside the house.
The two questioning her were obese, short men whose uniforms didn't fit them. They wore aviator glasses and one was smoking, the other chewing gum.
They made her confirm all the things she had confirmed over the phone, but were very inquisitive about the clown.
"So how big was this 'clown'?"
"About 6''4"
"Geez," the cop chewing gum said to the one smoking, "This guy is six feet tall, he should be easy to catch aye?"
The smoking one took a drag from his menthol. Wimpy smoker.
"Yeah, that and clowns are so hard to find in a crowd aren't they Gus?" His sarcasm was bitter at a time like this.
Sheridan was frustrated.
"Well aren't you going to call someone and start trying to find him?"
"Listen here, sweetpea," Sheridan cringed after that. "it's quite 'convenient' that there just so happened to be a new statue in the kid's room the first night you took care of them." said Gus.
Sheridan paused for a few seconds.
"Wait. What? You think I did this?"
"Well it seems like it, no evidence of a break in, and a highly unbelievable story."
"But, the Clown! And look at Alex!" Sheridan was shouting.  The other two cops from inside of the house poked their heads out a window.
"Calm down, sugarpuff" said the smoking cop.
"I WON'T CALM DOWN! MAX IS MISSING AND IT'S MY FAULT! NOW LOOK FOR HIM!"
The one chewing gum spoke into his walkie talkie attached to his left breast pocket on his blue shirt.
"Call off the search, the witness is highly hostile and possibly insane, we're taking her into custody now."
"What? I'm not insane, I'M NOT INSANE!" Sheridan yelled, angrier than ever before.
The two cops who were questioning her grabbed her and started handcuffing her as she struggled to break free.
"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you." The smoking one stated, then continued,
"You have the right to hire an attorney. If you cannot afford to hire one, you will be allocated one by the Supreme Court."
After that, Sheridan stayed quiet, she couldn't do anything now.
How could they think she was insane? It was the clown, and she would make sure everyone knew.
They pushed her into the back seat of the first police car and drove off.
"Imagine what Mom will think…" Sheridan thought to herself.


Chapter 4: Detective Rhian Wright.
The car rolled up to Sunbury Police Station. What an average American police station.
It was just one corner on a huge street. It was white and had windows all along the sides, most of the blinds drawn. If a window was open and someone walked past, all that person would have gotten is pure cigarette smoke in their lungs. It seemed the cops couldn't even save themselves from cancer, let alone protect the city. The car came to a stop. The smoking one had a newly lit cigarette in his mouth as he opened the door and pulled Sheridan out of the car, blowing smoke in her face. The car was double parked. Neither of these men could drive. Sheridan and the two fat policemen walked into the station. There were plenty of people in the front of the building, most likely the part of the building where all the small time criminals were recorded and put in jail for the night. Sheridan saw a man with multiple bullet wounds, one nursing a stab wound, a woman dressed like a tramp with bruises all over her face, and someone who seemed to be her pimp. Sheridan walked faster then, but the cops slowed her down. As they walked through the cubicles where all the detectives worked, the two policemen holding her arms stopped every now and then to explain what was going on and how stupid it was that they had to do such hard work.
"Pfft. Hard work." Sheridan thought.
They were almost at the other side of the building when one of the women working in a cubicle quickly stood up and stepped in front of Sheridan and stopped the fat men guiding her.
The one chewing gum sighed,
"What do you want, Wright?" he asked.
"I want to know why such an innocent looking girl is in handcuffs, Augustine." Wright winked at Sheridan and she smiled.
"DON'T CALL ME AUGUSTINE! It's Gus…" Augustine complained.
"What's she in for?"
"Possible kidnapping, but there's no clue to where the child is, so also a possible murder."
Sheridan couldn't keep her mouth shut at this point.
"What?! You think I killed Max?! That's even crazier than you thinking I kidnapped him!"
"We also think she might be insane, she keeps going on about this 'clown' that supposedly kidnapped the kid."
Sheridan got even angrier.
"I didn't 'go on' about him, YOU asked me about him!"
Wright put a single finger to her lips to silence her.
There was a five second pause.
"I'm going to defend you."
"Oh no you don't Wright, she's either hiring an attorney or we give her one." The smoking one explained.
"Fine then, what does she have in her pockets?"
The two policemen started going through Sheridan's pockets, big smiles on their faces. Bastards were probably getting some sort of sexual thrill out of searching a pretty young girl's pants.
"We got a wallet, a phone, some tissues and some candy."
Wright grabbed the wallet and pulled out a dime,
"This is my fee, are you willing to pay it?" She asked Sheridan, with a friendly smile on her face.
Sheridan couldn't help herself from giggling, and she nodded.
"Okay, I'm in charge of her now, hand me the keys to her 'cuffs." Wright demanded. She put her hand out, and her face was dead serious now.
The fat policemen hesitated, but eventually handed over the keys and walked away, mumbling something about a missed opportunity and some vulgar description of Wright.
Sheridan looked up at Wright; she had the type of face you very rarely see, so that if you'd have seen her in the street, you would've looked twice. Her smile was very welcoming, radiant in the dull police station.
Her eyes were a diluted blue with green and hazel. She was wearing a white singlet with a purple and blue flannelette shirt over it, the sleeves rolled up to her elbow; hardly something a police officer would wear, so she obviously was not a member of the force.
She was wearing several beaded bracelets, and a beaded necklace that went down to the upper part of her abdomen.
She was wearing a pair of black jeans and purple Chuck Taylor All Stars,
(could've sworn she was only a teenager,)
and blonde hair that went down to her shoulders.

She put her hand out,
"I'm Detective Rhian Wright, and you are?"

Chapter 5: My Confidence is Leaving Me On My Own.

Rhian took Sheridan to the room where suspects were interviewed and investigators stood behind the two-way mirror. The room was dull and gray, there was a silver metal table in the middle and two chairs either side of it. There was a rubber tree plant in the corner of the room. Of course that would liven this room up. Rhian was the one to question her and sat down next to her, rather than across her, which made her feel a lot more comfortable. Rhian had already gotten a full description of the statue and the children.
"Okay Sheridan, I think I know what you're saying now. So you went to see what was wrong with the kids, and there was a statue in their room that they'd never seen before, and to be precautious, you made them lock themselves in the study?"
"Yes, but I didn't do that to..."
Rhian reached her hand across the table to touch hers.
"I know..." she said, nodding.
"Then you went to ask their father about the new statue. You called him on his mobile. And before the line cut out, he said they didn't have a clown statue at all?"
Sheridan nodded.
"And when the line did cut out, was there a dial tone when you put the phone down and picked up again?"
Sheridan shook her head.
"No, there wasn't"
Rhian wrote something down on a piece of paper and continued with her summary and questions concerning vital details.
"And when you were running back to the children, what did you hear?"
"Someone grunting, uh, doors closing, floorboards creaking. It was almost like they wanted me to hear."
"Wait a second, Sheridan. They? There was more than one?"
"Well it sounded like it."
Rhian wrote on her notepad once more, and Sherri could hear murmuring behind the mirror.
"Thanks Sheridan. I think that could be it for now. We might even be able to send you home soon, or at least see your parents.
Rhian then left the room. A few seconds later, behind the glass, Sheridan heard a door shut.
There was more murmuring. Sheridan could hear Rhian talking to the other policemen behind the mirror. It sounded like three or four others. She couldn't make out much of what Rhian was saying.
"I........not crazy............truth............send home..........only fifteen..........probably scared......."
Sheridan heard more mumbling from the other policemen, and then Rhian raised her voice.
"What?! How do you think a young girl, with absolutely NO reason would do that?! She's not INSANE, you'd be confused too if you were in such a bizarre situation as well!"
There was more mumbling from the other policemen and then Sheridan hear a loud bang, probably Rhian getting mad over the other policemen's lack of co-operation. The door on the other side slammed shut, and Sheridan heard the intense footsteps of Rhian walking back to the interview room.
Rhian opened the door, put her hands on the table and looked straight down at the ground, her hair covering his eyes and half her face.
"They're not letting me send you home. You're allowed to see your parents but you will be spending the night in lockup. I was so confident that you'd be set free. No one else feels the same way. My confidence has left me on my own for this entire case. No one wants anything to do with it. If I could do anything, I would."
Sheridan thought for a few seconds. She was shocked, even though she didn't show it.
"What did they say about me?"
"I can't tell you." Rhian said, looking up at her apologetically.
Sheridan looked at the mirror. Usually she would have been angry, maybe even raising her voice a little, but there was nothing to say. There was nothing she could do. Even if there was something, if she went nuts right in front of Rhian and the other policemen, it would confirm the belief that she was insane.
Rhian spoke a little quieter,
"I'm so sorry Sheridan. I've done everything I can. But Lt. Jacobs wouldn't..."
A loudspeaker came on the second Rhian said that name,
"Detective Wright..."
"Oh damn. Sorry! I forgot." said Rhian, looking into the mirror,
(through the mirror...)
then back at Sherri.
"I'm not allowed to say any of their names."
"Why?" asked Sheridan.
"Well if you are a murderer, and they're the ones who won't let you leave, that could be a motive for you to kill them."
"But... I'm not...." Sheridan said
"I know." Rhian said, stopping her from continuing.
In the background Sheridan could hear police sirens starting up right outside the station.
Rhian stood up straight. Sherri heard cars screeching out of the parking lot of the station, sirens blaring.
A young looking, brown haired policemen opened the door.
"Detective Wright, there's been a report concerning your client."
"What is it?" Rhian said, walking out the door and closing it behind him.
Sheridan stayed put. Thankfully she couldn't hear anything that was being said; she couldn't take anything else today, although she did wonder what was going on.

Several minutes Rhian walked in. She looked like she'd seen a ghost, the shock didn't even leave her face when she told her,
"Sheridan, your... parents... th-they're dead."

Chapter 6: I Feel My Memories Fade With Time, But I'm Too Young To Worry.

'Cry alone, I've gone away, No More Nights, No More Pain.
I've gone alone, took all my strength.
I've made the change, I won't see you tonight.
Sorrow sank deep inside my blood, all the ones around me I cared for and loved.
Building up inside of me, a place so dark, so cold, I had to set me free.

Don't mourn for me, you're not the one to place the blame, as bottles call my name, I won't see you tonight.

Sorrow sank deep inside my blood, all the ones around me I cared for and most of all I loved, but I can't see myself that way, please don't forget me, or cry while I'm away

So far away, I'm gone.
Please don't follow me tonight,
and while I'm gone, everything will be alright.

No more breath inside
Essence left my heart tonight.'
- 'I Won't See You Tonight' Matthew Sanders.

Tears began to fill Sheridan's eyes.
She couldn't speak,
"What?" Sheridan said in a faint, pained squeak.

The funeral was terrible, but the flowers were nice. Sheridan was the only child in her family, her parents had no brothers or sisters, and her grandparents lived in Italy somewhere; Sheridan had never met them.
She was all alone at the funeral. About 100 people came, Sheridan knew about 5 of them, but when the other so-called 'family friends' (even though Sheridan had never heard of them) heard that the death was a murder and not a natural death, Sheridan assumed they came just for the drama of lives taken, not lost. She was polite as usual, as to not offend anyone.
Of course, she had no say in what sort of service her parents were given, so instead of the cremation she knew they wanted, they were buried at some cemetery a billion miles away; Sherri would probably forget where it was within a month.