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I sat in silence while the police turned the front parlor into an official investigation. My mother sat there crying while my father was pretending to be the ideal husband. He sat beside my mother with his arm around her, comforting her during the tragic death of her daughter.

I was shocked that my mother was allowing the contact that my father was giving her. I know that she knew what he did, and yet she was acting like he did nothing.

The police officer approached my parents. “Ma’am, do you know what caused the fall?”

“It was an accident. She was the only one up there. She must have fainted or something and fell down the stairs.”

In anger, I jumped up. “You liar. He did it.” I screamed pointing to my father. “He pushed her down the stairs in his drunken state. Or did you forget that. How can you sit there and lie? He killed my sister. And you are defending him. I hate you both. You both are murderers. You both killed her.” I ran out of the room. Surprisingly nobody followed me.

I arrived in my room and grabbed my school stuff and my photo equipment. I placed them on my bed and looked for my suitcases and duffels. I filled my bags to the point where nothing else would fit in it.

Meanwhile downstairs, my mother was talking to the police about my outburst. “I assure you officer. She’s just upset and speaking out of her sorrow for losing her sister. They were very close.”

The officer thanked my parents and went back to his partner. “So what do you think?” His partner asked him.

“I don’t know. I don’t quite believe the mother’s story. I didn’t believe it while she was saying it, then with the older daughter’s reaction, I don’t think it’s true. I think we need to do some other investigation about these people.”

Back up in my room, I finally finished packing. I walked downstairs and with my head held as high as it would go, I marched out of the house and to my car. Also surprising is that nobody stopped me. I got all my bags situated in the trunk. I got behind the wheel and peeled out of my driveway. I had a destination in mind. Abby’s house.

I arrived at Abby’s house and parked in front. I left my bags in the trunk and started for her door. I haven’t cried over my sister’s death yet. But I know the waterworks will start soon. I rang doorbell and waited a couple minutes. Soon Abby opened the door.

I saw Abby standing there and I started sobbing hysterically. “Oh my god. Lindsay, what happened? What’s wrong?” She approached me and engulfed me in the comforting hug of a best friend.

She led me into the house and up to her room. She sat on me on her bed and left the room. She came back with a box of tissues. She took one and started to wipe the tears off my cheeks.

When the river of tears showed no signs of stopping, she pulled me into a hug and rocked me back and forth as I cried. I ended up falling asleep. She tucked me into her bed and she went to get her school books and started to do her work in her room while I slept. She knew she would be needed as soon as I woke up and she wanted to be there.

As I was sleeping, I kept seeing my sister tumbling down the stairs. I couldn’t escape it. Then I kept hearing my mother’s lies. I woke up with a start and thought that maybe it was a dream. Then I recognized the room I was in as Abby’s room and it was then that I realized I was living a nightmare. The tears started up again. But this time there were no gut wrenching sobs.

She looked up from her homework and saw me sitting in her bed with tears flowing down my face again. She got up and hugged me tightly. Then she released me and left the room. She came back with a glass of water. Which I accepted gratefully after she offered.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“He killed her.”

“Who killed who?”

“My father killed Bri. My father killed my sister.”

“What?” She was shocked. “What happened?”

“He pushed her down the stairs.”

“What led up to this?”

“My father has always been abusive. Well not always, only when he was drunk. Which happens to be most of the time. He was drunk when I got home from school and I watched him push her down the stairs.”

“Why aren’t you home with your mother?”

“Because she’s defending him. She lied to the police and said that it was an accident that Brianna had fainted or something.” I was calm through the beginning while telling Abby of the situation. Now I was starting to cry again.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” She said sympathetically.

“Abby, I know this is putting you in a bad spot, but I can’t go home. I can’t live in the same house with murderers. Can I stay here?”

“As long as you need to. I’ll go tell my mother.”

She once again vanished from the room and returned moments later with her mother at her heels.

Her mother approached me and engulfed me in a loving embrace “Oh honey, I’m so sorry about what happened and your parent’s involvement. You can stay here for as long as you need. This is your new home.”

“Thank you.”

“No need to thank me honey. We are always around if you need us. You know that.”

She left the room. Abby turned to me. “Did you bring anything?”

“Yeah. It’s in the trunk of my car.”

“Come on. I’ll help you get it. For now you can stay in my room with me. Like a permanent sleep over, while my mother sets up a guest room to make yours.” She started out of the room.

I ran up to her and grabbed her in a hug. “Thank you. Thank you for being my best friend. I love you.”

She returned the hug and the sentiment and we left to go get my stuff.