There was this girl named Mary Berkins. She was a really famous author and was my best friend. She always said I was a really good liar. I became friends with her first by being her number 1 fan, then by becoming her manager. I remember when I visited Mary’s house for the first time, and it was so cozy. It had all you could think of for a cozy cabin. It had amazing lighting like you were in a movie. The house had plants that were perfectly watered, and it was between a bunch of fluffy trees that looked like they came from heaven, and she kept it clean. Just yesterday, I went over to her house. Like always, it was clean and tidy, nothing out of place. I was looking around for her, but she was nowhere to be seen. I looked all around the house, and I still couldn’t find her. I finally found her in her room. She was writing a book called “ The Murder of Mary Berkins”; she was really stressed about it.

 I tried talking to her, but she just yelled at me and exclaimed, “Get out of my room!” which I thought was really mean because I was just trying to cheer her up. 

I told her to stop being mean to me and that she was hurting my feelings. 

We start arguing, “Get out of my room before I make you get out!”  Mary fumed.

“Go ahead, Mary, make me,” I exclaimed. As soon as I said that, she got up and quite literally made me get out of her room. I got pushed to the ground, and I was mad. I got up off the ground and ran to the guest bedroom I was staying in. I started planning how I was going to get rid of her forever.

 I finally landed on a plan. I went up to the security guard, Fred, and told him the plan, “I have a plan on how we can get rid of Mary forever. Are you down to do it with me?” I asked.

“ Yes, you know I’m jealous of her. What is the plan?” Fred inquired.

“ We are going to poison her food with some rat poison I have in the guest bedroom under the bed.”  I giggled.

 “Okay, do you want me to go get it? “ Fred asked

“ Yeah, that will be great! I laughed.” I went back into the house, and Fred gave me the poison. I grabbed a snack and put the poison inside. I went up to her door, knocked, then I left it at the door and ran behind a corner to see if she took it, and soon enough, she did. She collapsed to the floor and started shaking. I checked her pulse, and she wasn’t breathing. I was so excited because my plan worked. 

I told Fred, “Fred!”  I screamed. He came running into the hallway.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“She’s gone!” I screamed.

 “Really?” he asked.

“Yes!” I cheered. I went into her room and read the book she was working on. The title was “The Murder of Mary Berkins.” I opened the first page, and the first thing it said was: I got murdered by my best friend with rat poison after an argument. She read the book I didn’t want her to read. She got caught with the murder 10 minutes after it happened.  I was shocked. It had already been 5 minutes after it happened, and I did not want to get caught. I was running around the house frantically trying to figure out what to do. I was about to book a flight to somewhere far, far away, then all of a sudden, exactly 10 minutes after the murder, I heard banging on the door. I checked to see who it was out of the window, and I saw that it was the police. I was frantically running around the house trying to figure out what to do. I was going to hide, but then I opened the door because if I act scared, they are going to know I did it either way. I saw two big police men standing outside the door with handcuffs in their hands.

“Get down on the ground with your hands behind your back!” screamed Michael, the Police officer. 

“Okay,” I remarked with a straight face. They threw me in the car. The whole way to the station, I sat there with a straight face, not taking, not blinking, just sitting. All I could think about was whether killing my best friend was worth it or not. I got to the station and got thrown in this very uncomfortable chair with rust all over it. It was kind of like the chairs at my old middle school. A man sat down in front of me and threw down a heavy binder of papers and packets with my name all over it. The man was just sitting there, literally just sitting there, not speaking, not even breathing, just sitting. Then all of a sudden he took a deep breath and stood up. Then he walked up to me

“Why?” he asked. “ Just why would you do that? She was the most famous author, and you murdered her; she was also your best friend. Just why?” he asked.

“I don’t know, I really don’t know,” I commented. 

“Oh, so you’re admitting to killing your best friend?” he asked.

“Yes,” I replied. He didn’t say anything. He brought me to a jail cell and threw me in. It was dark, cold, and felt heavy. I just sat there on the floor, thinking about my life. 

Then the next day, I was brought in front of the judge to pay for what I’ve done, and the most confusing part about this was that I couldn’t even tell myself why I did this. I then got sentenced to the rest of my life behind bars. 

I went back to my cell, the cell I would be spending the rest of my life in. It’s now been a couple of years since the murder of Mary Berkins, and my mind is still not clear. I still wonder to this day what even happened, and then it finally clicked. Mary always said that I was such a good liar. Which turns out to be true because you kept reading paragraph after paragraph, believing every word I said.