Searching For Truth

It was four years ago..
Harry was only 14 and i was 18. Our parents went out to this party. They were so excited, but i kept getting this feeling. Like that feeling you get when you KNOW something is going to happen. I just sorta brushed it off, since it was my first time they left us before.
They left me in charge and i stayed up till about 5 am waiting for them to come home, watching harry, making sure my little brother didnt get in trouble or hurt himself.
They didnt come home. They were shot and killed at the party. We found out about a month later who did it, and what happened. Fuck i was pissed. I wanted that man dead. I was willing to kill him myself.