Murder then what?

Chapter 1

Words can bring so much to our minds. One word could mean one thing for someone while for someone else something completly different. The word that brings back to many memories to my mind is the word death. The defintion for death is the act of dying; the end of life; the total and permanent cessation of all the vital functions of an organism. For me it means something completly different. This is because I have a personal connection with that word. For me that word haunts me at night, causing all my thoughts to be surrounded by it.

My mother wakes me up before sunrise, telling me to hurry. I slowly get out of bed and let my eyes adjust to the lack of sunlight in my room. We don't have enough money for electricity so we fully relay on the light from the sun or candles. I move around my small room searching for my dad's old worn out flannel shirt and his overalls . Quickly I find them since they didn't move from the place that I stepped out of them from last night.

After I get dressed I walk into our worn out kitchen and kiss my younger two twin sisters on the head. Even though their blonde hair is up in a braid they still look beautiful. The tallest one, Maple, got my father's sky blue eyes. They are stunning on her. It seems like they could pierce right through your soul while at the same time they send a message saying that she wouldn't even hurt a fly. The shorter one, Willow, was blessed with green eyes that show you right away that she has a tender and caring spirit to her. Their skin is milk honey color which shines bright on them specially when they are smiling. They are simply gorgeous not matter what.

I on the other hand am plain and ugly. It's not that I just think that about myself, it is the truth. My father though never thought that. Every night he would tuck me in and tell me that I was beautiful. He would always try to make me laugh.

My mother hands me my lunch in a metal pail and off us Hoffmann  sisters go.

We walk up to Stitch in Time. The place my sisters spend all their time making dresses to pay for our family. This job fits them. They are very creative and very gifted in sewing. The last time I tried to sew I pricked my finger so deep, it took at least an hour for the blood to clot. Let's just say sewing is not my gift. Instead I work outside and do hard labor. I do men's work. I do my father's work.

After saying goodbye to my sisters I head off to where I work. The place I work at doesn't have a name, it is just a farm and lumber that needs tending to.

As I arrive, I go immediatly to the barn to find my cloth wrappings. Normally I don't have to wear them, but today I am working in the fields and after awhile of working the plow my hands crack and bleed.

I find the old plow in the corner where I left it last. I go and get the mules and hitch them up and lead them out to the dirt that need to be over turned.

The workers out in the field glance up, but then go back to their work. I don't stare at them, not like I did the first time I was assigned to work the fields. I remember everything from that day. I had always worked in the house doing laundry and collecting the chicken's eggs. Never would I have dreamed that I would be out here breaking my back and sweating up a storm out here. Most of all I would never have dreamed of what would cause me to work this painful labor that is made for men.

After two hours of work. I look around me and see that most of the men have headed towards the house for a drink and break. I stop and unhitch the mules and lead them to the watering bin. I can tell they are happy for a break and something to cool them down.

I make my way through the rough and broad men to find Suzie standing with the water. As soon as she sees me her face brightens up.

"Cyprus! You are working in the fields today?"

I smile at her. Her happy and bubbly attitude reminds me so much of my sisters. "I work in the fields most days now." I let my voice dye down. Not everyone knows what happened that made me work in the fields and Suzie is one of them.