Chapter Two

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Everybody has secrets of their own, right? There's something everybody tries to hide from the world that might possibly destroy their image

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Everybody has secrets of their own, right? There's something everybody tries to hide from the world that might possibly destroy their image. The question is, is my secret worse than yours?

It took the police less than a week to investigate and notify us that my mother committed suicide and murdered my father. It was all over the news. Every news outlet was covering our tragedy, wondering why my mother killed herself and what made my mother murder my father?

I watched as every morning show host demonized my mom with their guests. How the media depicted her as a terrible woman who was partially to blame for my sister's death. People threw eggs at one of her gallery studios, and only a few people who knew her well, not only as an artist but also as a personal friend, spoke fondly of her.

When Clarissa wanted another investigation to be made, she asked for a new lead investigator to handle the investigation. It almost took the new team of investigators three weeks before they informed us that my mother didn't commit suicide and that she was also murdered because the weapon was never found at the crime scene. It didn't take long for the media to pick up on the fresh information.

I had to sprint away from the reporters who, two years ago, were chasing me down the block from Clarissa's place. I recall the track blurring beneath me when I felt that adrenaline rush. My ears rang with the rapid thump of my footsteps, and I felt a bead of sweat trickle down my forehead. When I succumbed to my foot's incredible banging on the ground. An aggressive pitter-pattern struck the track with the soles of my sneakers. It was the way I always got my rage drained, and that's what was going on at the time. I was overjoyed. My spirit was at its highest point, and I ran, and I was alive. When I turned and hid in a corner, I felt relieved. I imagine this would be a cool scenario in films, but I never thought it could happen to me, and it's not really cool as I thought it would be.

I noticed a pack of television reporters sitting outside our front yard when I went home. Without them knowing, I had to sneak my way to the back. I was trapped inside the house for weeks, and what I did was watch the news as they talk about me and my family on live television.

I stayed inside the car, struggling to breathe, as Zania gets a hold of me. It was only the first day of school, and today I'm starting to reconsider my decision about going back here when Clarissa offered to enroll me in homeschool.

"I can do this," I said.

"I can just drive you back home if you want. There's nothing much to do today, anyway."

I look at Zania as my eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"There will just be an event later in the afternoon, and we get to go home at around noon. So, if you want, I can drive you home now. It wouldn't even take that long," Zania said.

Yes. I would love to come home right now, eagerly and desperately. A part of me, though, was too stubborn and what emerged from my mouth was:

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