With my face buried in a pillow, tears fell from my eyes and soaked the soft fabric that was engulfing my screams. My head felt as if it was going to explode from all of the feelings and thoughts that were running through my mind at once. I was left asking, “Why does this have to happen to me?” because I honestly had no clue why I was to be put through such pain as this, why I had to have my heart and soul torn to pieces.

“Samantha, please unlock your door.” My father knocked slowly on the large wooden door that separated his tears from my screaming. “I understand that this is a lot to handle but you can’t separate yourself from all of us; it hits us hard to you know. Please come out and join the rest of the family.”

I sat up slowly and wiped the remnants of tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand; I didn’t think my body even had any more tears for me to cry for my sister. My heart physically ached as I slowly rose from my bed and shuffled my feet across the cold hardwood floor to the door. With reluctance, I unlocked the door, took a deep breath, and opened it to look my father in his eyes.
His face was neutral; he wasn’t frowning but he definitely wasn’t smiling.

Although his face didn’t show any apparent emotion, his eyes said it all. They were heavy and glazed over, showing more pain than anyone could imagine; he didn’t know what to say to me. So instead of speaking, my father just stretched his arms out for me and, before I could even take a step toward him, I collapsed on the ground in a fit of silent sobs, tears that I didn’t think I had left streaming down my cheeks once more.

He kneeled down next to me and wrapped his arms tightly around my shoulders, stroking my head slowly and gently telling me that it was going to be okay.

“No dad, it’s never going to be okay; my sister is dead, gone, never coming back.” I screamed and whined as I pressed my face against the floor. His touch, that was comforting at first, just seemed to cause me more pain as I screamed; I pushed myself away from him and sat up against the wall, kicking my feet to show him that I didn’t want him near me.

Slowly, I gained my composure and after taking a few deep breaths managed to calm down and allow my father to help me to my feet. As soon as he put his arm around me, the doorbell rang and a man’s voice cut through the sadness that filled the house. “NYPD, we have a few questions for the family.” I froze in my spot as my father quickly moved down the stairs and whipped the front door open. There stood a man in a black suite displaying a badge, a grim look on his face. I couldn’t help but ask myself, “Why would the police be here?”

<><><><><><><><><><><>

I stood silently in the doorway as I listened to the detective go over basic information with the family. I was bored and honestly wondered why the detective was asking questions to the family when we were told that my sister had killed herself.

“How did she do it?” My voice cut through the conversation from the doorway and caused everyone to turn in my direction. My father gave me a stern look, as if to tell me to stop.  “No dad, I won’t stop. I want to know and I deserve to know.”

“You’re right, you do, and I understand your concern. Your sister Victoria was found by a group of teenagers in a bush in Central Park right across from the Met; her wrists were slit and the knife was still in her hand. We think she went there to be alone during the act of taking her own life.” As he finished speaking my mind began racing, how could this be?

“No, you’re wrong; someone else had to have done this. Victoria was very afraid of knives and other sharp edged objects ever since we were little and she accidentally cut my wrist while we were trying to make mom dinner and sent me to the hospital. She hasn’t picked up a knife since unless she absolutely had to.”

“That’s odd…” the detective looked puzzled. “Those who commit suicide usually have some sort of fear of death at first and they generally don’t choose a method that they are afraid of or they fear will hurt.”

“Exactly…” I took a step closer.

“If that’s the case, can you think of anyone that would want to hurt Victoria?” the detective slowly took out a notebook, intrigued by the new situation that had arisen.

“No, everyone loved Vitoria; no one would want to hurt her.” As my dad spoke those words something in my brain “clicked” and my stomach dropped.

“No, wait dad… I think Victoria was in some trouble.” My voice shook as I spoke those words and realized that my sister, my best friend, had been murdered.