Suicide Med by Freida McFadden Read Free Book Online Page A

instead of studying when I get back from my outing to the mall, I decide this is a perfect time to look up the details of the grisly murder-suicide that allegedly took place at my school last year. Rachel isn’t around, so it’s perfect timing.
    The information is so easy to find, I’m slightly embarrassed that it took me this long. All I have to type in is “Southside Medical School” and “murder-suicide.” Pops right up. How is it possible that I didn’t know about this?
    So here’s the story:
    Apparently, Mary Chin and Jared Peterson were first-year students who were also dating. They were both good students, not failing any classes or having any sort of social problems. Since our lectures are transcribed, nobody made much of it when they didn’t show up for class one morning, but then Mary’s mother became worried when she couldn’t reach her by phone.
    The police surmised that Jared had shot Mary in the head, then bu ried the gun in his own mouth and pulled the trigger. They both died instantly.
    There’s a quote from Dr. Conlon that’s repeated in several of the online articles: “Mary was a wonderful student and a wonderful person. She had so much potential. This is a great tragedy.”
    So much potential.
    Isn’t that what Dr. Conlon said about me? Does he think I’m like the girl who was murdered last year? Or does our professor just go around telling everyone that they’ve got oodles of potential?
    The icing on the cake is that the whole thing took place in the Southside dorm—the very place where I’m living right now. For all I know, Mary and Jared died in this very room.
    I look down at the carpeting. It’s dark brown and looks brand new—suspiciously new. Was it changed to get rid of the bloodstains?
    A door slams and I nearly jump out of my skin. I quickly minimize the window on my laptop seconds before Rachel strolls into our bedroom. I can’t say exactly why, but I don’t want her to know I was reading about the murder-suicide. Mostly, I’m afraid she’ll say something to make me feel worse about it than I already do.
    Without asking if it’s okay, Rachel lays out her yoga mat on the floor, and starts playing some music that is probably supposed to be soothing, but it just gets on my nerves. Besides, I’m studying (kind of). I know listening to classical music is supposed to make you study better or something, but I can’t concentrate with music playing, and anyway, this isn’t classical music.
    “I’m trying to study,” I say to her.
    She’s already on her hands and knees on the mat. “So study. Who’s stopping you?”
    I can’t imagine Rachel would understand, considering I’ve yet to see her actually crack open a book. “You know,” I say. “We’ve got our first exam coming up soon in anatomy.”
    “You’re kidding.” Rachel straightens out her legs and spine so that her body makes a triangle with the floor.
    I don’t get it. I’d say she’s got a photographic memory or something like that, but it’s clear from lab that Rachel has no clue what’s going on. Isn’t she worried about failing?
    “Let me tell you a story, Heather,” Rachel says, straightening up.
    “Okay…” I say. I hope this story doesn’t involve a murder or suicide.
    “A man was being chased by a deadly tiger,” Rachel begins.
    Okay…
    “ He runs but soon comes to the edge of a high clif f ,” Rachel continues, “ Desperate to save himself,he climbs down a vine and dangles over the fatal ledge. Bu t he soon realizes that his weight is too much for the vine—”
    “Maybe he was snacking too much while studying,” I joke.
    Rachel glares at me and ignores my interruption. “ Anyway , the man realizes that his weight is too much for the vine and in a few minutes, it will probably break and he’ll fall to his death.” She pauses dramatically. I brace myself for the gory details. “Then he spots a strawberry hanging from the vine. He reaches out and picks the strawberry, and he