Prologue

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April 14, 2005.

I still remember it clearly. I was nine years old. My room was upstairs, my sister, Jasmine, her room was downstairs. I was lying on my bed, playing with my dolls, when I heard a scream come from downstairs. And then a really loud, ear piercing bang. I didn't make a sound.

My mother came bursting in the room, whisper yelling at me to hide under the bed. I did what I was told, and all I could see was my moms feet. Then my dad's feet. They were yelling at each other. I wanted to crawl out, wanted to cry, wanted to scream. But I stayed quiet. After what felt like hours of yelling between them, that noise came again.

My mum dropped to the ground. The front door slammed. My father was gone. I climbed out, and grabbed the phone immediately. 9-1-1.

12 Hours Later

I was sitting in the hospital waiting room. A lady came out and told me I could talk to my mum. She's alive. My sister was not.

My father murdered my sister, and tried to murder my mother.

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