The detective came around less. The people looked at you with sympathy. The teachers shook their heads and patted you on the back.
I hate them.
I hate them all.
The last time the detective came around, he said we know who did it."
"We can't gather enough evidence. Her body was so far decomposed, that any other evidence that was left on her body is now gone."
He looked nervously at all the faces in the room.
"This is called a cold case."
Dad nodded to him, I understand. He left the room, with his hunched back. It was as though he was determined to not allow the world to crush him.
"If you want to play detective, I'm pretty sure you can figure out who did it to. Her body wasn't far from his house, and he lives with his mom"
Thank you detective. Even though I don't know how this is going to help me.
YOU ARE READING
I am Eve
PoetryA stolen sisters story. This is a very short story about a stolen sister. February 14, in Victoria (Canada) they hold a March to bring awareness to the community. Is this story true, is it false? I will not be answering questions about this story...
