I woke up the next morning, with Emily close to me. She looked so peaceful. My face felt so puffy, and I had a lot of cleaning to do from last night. The investigators said not to go near the crime scene, well not just yet. They have to confirm that it was suicide and not murder. I scrubbed the hallway floors and hear someone upstairs in the attic. I threw down my scrub brush into the bucket as curiosity took over. Half of me said not to go, but the other half wanted to be the curious white girl in the movies. Then the sensible side of me, the black girl inside, saying bad idea get out of here couldn't over power the curious girl. Due to the fact that I am mixed, both black and white, for some reason in situations like these the white half takes over. I walked up the stairs without making any noise. My heart pounded with each step I took. Half way up the stairs I thought I should of took the scrub brush up with me as a weapon. the top of the stairs came closer with each percise step. I got to the top and the room was quiet.
I went to go back down the stairs when I heard a child giggle then begin to weep. The sound came from farther away from the stairs, more over by the window. I walked up the stairs and walked to the window. The curtain was sheer so I could see someone sitting behind it. It was a girl, Emily, it had to be. But yet she was just asleep down stairs. I pulled the curtain away and whispered "Em..." I reached down to touch her shoulder. "Em..?" She spun around and looked at me with pain and sadness in her eyes. "Where's mommy?" I knelt down. "Honey, mommy isn't here anymore." She looked down into her lap. "Yes she is." She whispered. I shook my head. "No she's not." She looked up at me. "Then why is mommy behind you?" I turned around, nothing was there physically, but I could feel its presence. "Em....she's not there." She got up. "Mommy said you killed her." I looked at her puzzled. "What? That's crazy." She looked at me with anger. "You did." Her voice got deeper, this wasn't Emily anymore. I reached out to grab her arm to pull her in to hug her. She screamed, and looked at me with pure evil in her eyes. My throat felt like it was closing, I soon came to the realization that I was being choked. I was pulling at the air that just slipped through my fingers, I was gasping for precious air that never came. My vision blurred, and my world began to cave in on me. I was in the air by now. Emily still looked at me with so much evil, I geuss she realized what was happening, she smiled. That soon faded as I took a few large gasps, and the force let me go, dropping and hitting the ground, laying there collecting the precious life I almost lost. Emily looked down on me and walked away dropping a paper beside my head. I opened it and read the letter. "Dear Christine, by the time you read this I may have ended life as it is for good. I'm sorry, for leaving this huge burden upon your shoulders, I couldn't handle it. I couldn't handle knowing your secret. Yes, the affair with my husband? Oh you think I wouldn't find out? You are the reason I ended my life. You took everything I ever wanted from me. My husband and now my children. They don't even say they love me anymore. That hurts as a mother. i know I couldn't give them the life they wanted due to my many illnesses. I just want you to know, you win, you can finally have everything you've been trying to have. So from here forth, everything I once owned is now yours. Good Luck Christine." I laid there collecting my thoughts, and I came to the conclusion, that it was time for some professional help. I knew exactly who to call, I seen it in the paper yesterday, and I can't wait to call. My old lover, Jeremiah Wilkinson, a now former psychologist.
