"Like hell," I demand, as I begin the story of how I caught my sister's killer.
"It was the twelfth anniversary of my sister's, Marrah's death. Marrah was older than me, four years to be exact. She was the most beautiful girl, with long blonde hair, bright green eyes, and a smile white and straight as ever. Most people would've sworn she grew up with braces, but she was blessed. I was in seventh grade when she was murdered. After Marrah's death, our family moved away and I was homeschooled for the remainder of the years," I start with the first of the firsts, Marrah.
"The first couple of months after Marrah's death were the hardest. It wasn't because she had died it was that I knew who killed her. I know, sounded crazy back then, but now I'm not so sure. You would probably think if I knew who killed my sister the person responsible for her murder would be in jail, but they are not. Still walking free on this Earth. I remember that night clear as day, but afterward, I had to spend some time in a psychiatric facility. Marrah and I were close despite our four year age difference, she told me everything, we were best friends. So when she told me her life was in danger, I believed her," I finish.
"Macy! Macy!" Marrah yells my name across the hall as I come out of my room and into Marrah's.
"Yeah Marrah?" I ask. Marrah stands in front of her easel, painting a landscape.
"Look what I painted you," she declares.
"Wow, it's beautiful!" I shout. The landscape is a field connecting to a river, the colors burn vividly and the sky shows an assortment of my favorites, Pink, Blue, and Purple.
"Do you like it?" Marrah requests with a bright smile.
"Like it? I love it!" I explode, holding the painting in my hands, staring at it in awe until one of her other paintings catches my attention. It's a portrait of two people. One male and one female, the female looks like Marrah but she appears frightened.
"Marrah?" I interrogate.
"Yeah?" Marrah answers back.
"What's the story behind that painting?" I inquire, pointing to the canvas peeking out from behind her dresser.
"You know Macy, all artwork has a story behind it. Picture this painting, a young female, scared and afraid. A tall, broad-shouldered man demeaning over her. Any girl would be a little intimidated with a man like that," she shortly explains.
"Is the female you?" I ask.
"Yes," she replies.
"Who is the man?" I request again.
"Oh, he? He is nobody," Marrah stutters.
*End of flashback*
I start breaking down as I sniffle,
"That was the first time Marrah had ever lied to me, but she told me enough to know how she was feeling."
"And what exactly was she feeling?" Kieran raises.
"Afraid for her life," I end, looking off into the distance.
One Year Earlier
I zone off into the distance in my office as I glare at the landscape Marrah had painted twelve years before. When Marrah died the painting, one she was afraid to tell me about, went missing. I tried to find it, searching for it day and night. I told my parents that I knew who killed Marrah, I just needed to find the painting, but they didn't listen. Instead, they threw me into the psych ward.
I spent about six months there, meeting with different doctors to help me "cope" with the traumatic experience. The only thing that I needed was for somebody to believe me. When they let me go I finished homeschooling and went off to law school. This is my first year being a detective and I'm ready to fight justice for my sister, Marrah.