“Whisper!” I don’t even attempt to hide the sense of urgency in my voice when I call my sister’s name. She’s laying in a pool of her own blood, a knife through her heart, in the front room of our boathouse.
A deafening scream fills the air and I freeze in a state of confusion until I realise I’m the one screaming. I don’t even attempt to go near my sister, by the now thick red carpet; I know it’s too late.
I had just had one of the most incredible days of my life. I could never have predicted how today would end. I should never have left the boat this morning when my father went to work. But whisper is used to being left here on her own, and never before has she been in any danger. I have no idea what to do, but all of my senses are telling me to get out, run away from her, so I leg it. I sprint out of the port, through the short stretch of forest and into the large market town, where my dad works selling parts for cargo ships. I approach the wooden, tattered warehouse, with hand painted sign above the door that reads ‘Mick’s Ship Parts’. I push through the door that sticks on its hinges and come to a halt in front of my father, red faced and out of breath.
“Hey, Tarnia what’s wrong?” my dad asks, concerned.
“You need to come home, now!” I scream at him before running back in the direction that I had come from. When I reach the boat, I sit on the wooden deck of the port and wait for my father to appear, five minutes later, on his pushbike. He looks at me with a puzzled expression and dismounts the bike, before seeing the bashed in door.
“Have we been robbed?” my father asks me. I don’t answer. He walks into our home and sees Whisper for himself.
“What are we going to do daddy?” I worry, because this sort of thing just doesn’t happen to us. All in the space of one day, my nine-year-old sister has become an angel, and my dad looks like he could now murder someone himself. His rage scares me. I have not seen my father this way since my mother drowned three years ago, only she shouldn’t have, because she was a strong swimmer. After her death, my father made sure we both were taught how to swim and that we swam everyday, to make us stronger.
“Go to your room, Tarnia,” my dad ordered, “Don’t come out until I come to get you. Lock your door.” I do as I’m told because the look on my dad’s face tells me that this is not a time to argue. I climb the stairs, enter my room, and then turn the lock on my door, but not before I hear my dad leave the house once more.
Here I stay for the rest of the night, thinking to myself that my sister is gone. I don’t believe it; the thought just doesn’t sink in. I’m too shocked to cry, too shocked to worry that the murderer might come back for me, too shocked to feel anything at all. After a short amount of time, my dad returns, but he’s not alone. He must have brought some people to take away my sister’s body, possibly the town cops too. Initially, there is a lot of shrieking and cries of “Oh my goodness”, “I’m so sorry” and “Who would do such a thing?” which makes me start to accept the reality of the situation. Whisper really has gone, I’m not dreaming. It’s so strange not reading my little sister to sleep, not having our usual little arguments because she doesn’t want to go to bed. The image of my sister, laying where I found her, turns my dream into a nightmare. Finally, I wake up screaming with terror, covered in a cold sweat. I look at the clock; it’s not quite three in the morning. Dad comes running into my room and we both curl up crying on my bed until I fall back to sleep.
The morning comes and I’m woken by dawn breaking through my window. It’s five o’clock but I have to get up and do chores before I prepare for Sunday school. Dad must have gone back to his own bed last night once I had fallen asleep because I’m alone. I’m about to go and wake my sister when I remember the events of yesterday. There’s no point going to her room because no one will be there. I climb out of bed, dress myself in my Sunday school uniform and plait my hair into a braid down my back. A feeling of exhaustion has replaced my usual bubble of morning energy. Waking up at three and then going back to sleep has taken its toll on my appearance too. There’s no hiding the dark circles under my eyes. I wash my face and brush my teeth before cleaning the bathroom (my first chore), and then hesitate before going into Whisper’s room to feed her hamster for her. I regret it almost straight away. Whisper’s room smells like her rose perfume and it’s as if she’s standing right in front of me. I throw some hamster food into the dish, slam the cage and then get out of the room as fast as I can. Today will not be a good day.
I have to calm my nerves before building up enough courage to go downstairs. I walk into the kitchen, expecting the breakfast bowls to be laid out on the table, but I forget that that was also one of Whisper’s chores. The kitchen is completely empty so I edge myself towards the front room against my will. To my surprise, two policemen sit on the couch opposite my father’s chair.
