Sara

2

Sara stared at the casket, finding it impossible to conceive that her sister lay beneath the glossy mahogany wood. Leah had been so pale, so still, when Sara had seen her, the hole in her chest from the bullet covered up by the nice blouse. They had opted for a closed casket at the wake because Leah wasn't supposed to be dead, she was supposed to be alive and laughing and tugging lightly on Sara's short ponytail as they obsessed over episodes of Seinfeld.

Kramer's voice, the laugh track, the sniffling sobs of Sara's mother, and the memory of Leah's deathly pale skin and the absolute stillness of her body coalesced to fill the space left empty by Leah's death, a swirling chasm of sorrow and nostalgia.

The projector slowly flipped through the photos Sara had chosen for the wake. At first, the task had been slow and painful but simplistic, picking out the best pictures from their childhood. Memories of times at the beach where they had thrown the football with their now deceased father, playing volleyball in middle school, Leah's Sweet Sixteen party where they had played her From Under the Cork Tree CD as loud as the stereo would go, yelling along to the lyrics or what they thought to be the lyrics of the Fall Out Boy songs. Picnics, summer vacations, school concerts and dance recitals, first dates. All her memories from childhood had swarmed before Sara's eyes, bringing silent tears and silent fury.

And then Darius had entered Leah's life.

"Darius Madden was arrested last night for the murder of his wife, Leah Madden."

"You must be Sara, Leah's sister. She's told me all about you."

"Not everything. Sisters got to have secrets, you know?"

"Note to self: I do not know everything about Sara, unlike my previous assumption, and so I should proceed carefully around her."

"As long as you're with Leah, you've got nothing to worry about."

"Getting along, you two? I knew you'd love Darius, Sara. He's...well, he's not perfect, but I never liked perfection anyway."

The memory of Leah's voice brought Sara out of her recollections. She shook her head and gazed up at the projection, noting the picture of Leah at her bachelorette party, caught in the act of singing Panic! At The Disco's "Don't Threaten Me with a Good Time" into the neck of a partially full champagne bottle. Leah's red hair was all over the place as she sang, albeit badly. But it was her enthusiasm that had mattered more than her lack of talent.

The photos dating from after Darius entered Leah's life had been harder to comb through. Seeing them as a couple was only a stark reminder of how that had been ended violently, Darius daring to draw a gun on her sister and shoot her through the chest.

Why? Sure, they were getting divorced, but Leah had said it was simply to having fallen out of love. If it was that simple, why shoot her? Why kill her?

"Love isn't simple, Sara."

"But the question is, Darius. Will you or will you not take care of my sister?"

"Of course I'll take care of Leah, Sara. But it's still not simple."

"Do you love her?"

"Yes, that's why I'm marrying her."

"Then you'll take care of her. Easy. Simple. No matter what."

The slight laugh Darius had given at that echoed through Sara's mind as she saw the wedding photo on the projector, Leah and Darius with the Lark family standing around them, Sara and her parents smiling almost as wide as the newlyweds.

And Darius had shot Leah.

No one would guess the ending from the beginning. Happily ever after didn't follow murder.

Sara hadn't wanted to include any photos with Darius. He didn't deserve it, didn't deserve to be beside Leah in the place of honor at the wake. No. He deserved pain and erasure from existence, he deserved to rot in prison for life and be eternally forgotten by the world for the wrongs he had inflicted on the Larks. But her mother had insisted on the wedding photo.

Leah will have her justice when he is condemned to die in a cage.

Some of Leah's coworkers came up to the Larks in a huddle to pay their respects. "I'm so sorry for your loss." "Leah was amazing, her patients all loved her." "I can't believe what happened, Leah always spoke so highly of Darius." "I know you'll get justice in the courts."

Justice.

Sara nodded, brushing away a tear on her cheek as she glanced toward Leah's coffin, the large family photo that ordinarily hung above the mantel propped up nearby amid numerous bouquets of flowers. This one didn't have Darius, only the four Larks secure within the gilt frame. Sara and Leah stood behind their parents, all dressed up and smiling.

Leah's red hair, Sara's dark hair, their father's greying brown hair, their mother's auburn curls. Leah had her father's round features and grey eyes while Sara's green eyes came from her mother, her features a mixture of both, her height from her father. The intricacies of the Lark family shown out from that photo, Leah's sparkle, Sara's seriousness, their father's composure, their mother's good cheer. The laughs they exchanged while watching Seinfeld, their father's favorite show, the days skiing in the winter, their trip to Europe for Leah's high school graduation and again for Sara's, movie nights with everyone's favorite films. All of that was lost in translation in the family portrait, but Sara could feel her father's laugh when she looked at the photo, the way he would lose it at Jerry's comedy routine; she could feel the shock when her mother suddenly sang out the lyrics to a Fall Out Boy song at the dinner table, totally surprising Leah and Sara who hadn't realized their mother could be "cool"; Leah's love of dance, the way she could spin her way across a dance floor without losing her breath or her balance.

The portrait didn't show everything, but it was a key to the memories for those who had lived them.

The only indication of what was to come in the photo was Leah's necklace, a gift from Darius, and the slight weariness in her father's eyes.

No other way of telling that both would die before the others were ready to let them go.

Sara glanced away, dashing at her eyes again, and her gaze lit on a man entering the room, slowly, hesitantly. She froze, eyes widening. No way in a thousand years had she expected to see him here.

He turned his head and saw Sara standing beside her mother. Still with hesitation in his steps, he started across the room toward them.

Sara stepped forward, intent on blocking him from her mother. "Sara," Clark Madden said, an older version of Darius, his son. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know...I never would have expected him to....I'm sorry."

"Why?" Sara asked, unsure whether she was questioning his appearance at the wake or his son's actions. "Why?"

"I don't know," Clark said, looking just as lost and confused as Sara felt, just without all the anger. "Darius won't talk to me about it, although I've asked. I thought they were happy together." His voice broke. "I loved Leah like a daughter. She was the perfect ray of sunshine for us."

Sara didn't know what to say as Clark awkwardly patted her arm. "I'm so, so sorry." He stepped away, toward her mother, and repeated his condolences to her. Leah's death and Darius' hand in it seemed to have affected Clark more than Sara had expected.

Then again, he did just lose his son.

Moving away from the shifting group of people, Sara stopped by the coffin and laid her hand gently on the glossy wood. You will have justice soon, Leah, she promised silently. I swear it.