Stumbling into my life.

CH.8

"D-Dani?" I spit out, barely able to breathe or talk for that matter. She looks at me with her beautiful blue eyes. We both have the same eyes, like our mother. She is wearing the same pajamas the night she was murdered. It's a white, silky nightgown with lily flowers on them. She looks happy, like the incident never happened. I blink and she's gone. The tears fall without me noticing or being able to control them at first. I look around and see nothing. Just like I expected. I wipe the tears away and make my way inside. I look in the mirror by the door and see my red, puffy face. My crystal looking blue eyes look back at me, as a million thoughts fill my head. That couldn't of been real, that's impossible. She couldn't have found me, maybe I just imagined it all. If this was real, what she doing here? Trying to tell me something that will help me find her and my mothers killer? What - "Knock, knock," says a familiar boy's voice. Dean. "Hey, come in." I say, smiling away the pain. He looks at me and is not fooled. "Clare, what's wrong?" he asks, now concerned. What do I tell him? That I am seeing things because I am still grieving over my sister's death?  "I burned my hand while I was cooking for you," I lie and turn towards him, smiling. He raises his eyebrow and I get nervous. Did he believe me? "So, what did you cook for me today?" he asks, walking around, looking at everything around him. I hurry up and get in front of him before he can get in the kitchen. "It's a surprise, so you can't see!" I say excitedly. He laughs and walks over to my dining room table and sits down. I sigh deeply and walk over and put plates, napkins, and silverware down. I make my way towards the door to the kitchen, when I see something odd. There is a knife sticking out of Dean's pocket and it's stained with blood. I am not particularly terrified, but it does raise suspicion. I arrive in the kitchen and start get the spaghetti. He does not pay any attention to me, as he gets up to look around my house. I start to pour some of it onto his plate. I watch him as he looks through the books on my bookshelf in my living room. After that, I put some spaghetti on my plate and then return to the kitchen again. "What do you want to drink?" I ask him, yelling quite loudly. "Got any beer?" he asks, smiling to himself. I smile also and take out one of my Dad's beers. I come out to the table and put the beer by his plate. I take my tea and set it next to my plate. "Dinner is ready," I yell to him. He is looking through a book when he looks up at me. He puts it back on the book shelf and walks over and sits down. I sit down in my seat across from him and look up to him. He looks at me and says "So, I am here to answer your questions, so ask away."