Chapter 1
10 Years Ago
Oma watched through the slim area of the splintered door as her dad beat her mom.
The father strode out of the area, only to come back with an etching knife. The adolescent girl could see the horror run through the mom’s eyes as the father seized the parent by her overlong brown hair. The black-haired man peered up and spotted Oma threw her little hiding area. Oma met eyes with the man and caught the craziness in his eyes; They terrified the ten-year-old girl to her very core. Oma observed as a blood-curdling smile made its way onto his face. Slowly, the well thought of man put the knife to the once beautiful woman’s, who now had bruises covering her body, throat. The father dragged the knife across the mother’s neck, placing just enough pressure to draw the blood from the veins. The crazy man then quickly cut the woman’s throat a multitude of times while releasing a monstrous laugh. Blood spewed from her mother’s throat, pooling around the lifeless body.
Oma shot up from her bed, drenched in sweat. Her hair stuck to her face and her mouth felt dry. The youthful woman didn’t want to get up and face the day. She wanted to sleep, not having to worry about anything. Unfortunately, the intelligent girl had to start her day and get going.
Oma stood from her low bed, stretching, a small yawn escaping her lips. Oma gathered clothing to wear for the interminable day ahead. The long-haired woman walked into her bathroom, taking a quick shower, grimacing as the icy water hit her back. She stood there for a minute as the water slowly rose in temperature. Oma exited the shower, shivering as the frosty air surrounded her.
Putting her overlong ombre hair into a messy bun, the youthful woman got dressed in a long blue t-shirt, which she tucked into high-waisted black jeans. Oma walked out of the small restroom, putting on a long beige cardigan. Strolling over to the couch, Oma put on her socks and shoes, afterward fixed her hair into a high ponytail.
Oma grabbed a small backpack with some essentials, such as her phone, wallet, and a portable charger. Throwing the bag over her shoulder, Oma grabbed her keys and walked out of the small apartment she lived in. The youthful woman entered her car, driving off to her job.
“I heard that she just watched,” The whispers started,
“I heard she’s been a suspect in every murder case this year because her father was a crazy person,” Another rumor.
“I heard she was the one who killed her mom and framed her dad,” Oma gave the group of girls a look as if to a say, Seriously? How on earth was a ten-year-old supposed to frame a thirty-five-year-old man? The girls shrunk back in fear. Oma rolled her sea-foam eyes as she turned her attention back to unlocking her office.
Being placed in solitude was nothing new for the bright girl, in fact for as long as the creative female could remember she was always alone. So, when her father killed her mom, the treatment was nothing new, Oma just got placed in a classroom all by herself.
Oma closed the simple brown office door and let out a long-held sigh. The beautiful woman turned on the lights, strolling to her desk and taking off her small bag. Oma plopped down in her comfy office chair, opening a set of technical assignments the higher executives had given her.
Oma didn’t have a problem with her job, she could get all her work done in a matter of two hours. To tell the truth, Oma was a genius. The youthful woman had graduated high-school at the age of fourteen and college at eighteen. However, that doesn’t matter to the society Oma lived in. They looked at her as a serial killer. The detective didn’t help that fact when he dragged in for every murder that happened in the city.
A heavy knock on the door startled the concentrated women. Oma had two guesses about who was at the boring office door. It was the detective or her boss.
“Please be Jackie,” Oma whispered under her breath. She really wasn’t in the mood and didn’t have the time to deal with the detective, nor did Oma want to waste her time proving she was innocent.
Sighing heavily, Oma stood. Shaking slightly, she opened the door, coming face to face with a tall man.
A small darkness passed through Oma’s eyes as she glared at the lengthy man. The detective always wore a black suit that complimented his light skin tone and brown eyes. The very defined jawline and dimples, not to mention the slight beard he had, made the ladies fall for the presumptuous man.
"Let me guess," Oma snarked, "A friend of a cousin twice... no three times removed, that I have absolutely no knowledge of is dead, right?" Oma crossed her arms over her chest.
"Oma Laurent you have-"
"The right to remain silent. Anything I say can and will be used against me in a state of law. I have the right to talk to a lawyer and have him present while I am being questions. If I can't afford a lawyer one will be appointed to me before questioning if I wish... yadadada." Oma paused to take a breath, "Let me grab my bag and you can take me down to the station." A look of shock passed over the Hot Shot Detectives face.
"Were the handcuffs necessary?" Oma asked rubbing her wrist, sitting down at the all too familiar interrogation table.
