I Don't Believe You

Chapter 1

When someone you know dies, there is an urge to think the very best of that person. You remember the instances where you connected deeply or silently relished in the beauty of a moment together. But when someone you know is murdered, there is an internal emptiness.

The pain isn't fathomable to the human brain, let alone the heart. When they told me my father was dead and my mother was gone, they thought I was in shock. They assumed that when I went silent in response,  the pain and surprise of the moment had stunned me.

The truth was, it made perfect sense to me. They found lipstick on his cheek that wasn't my mother's. They found a velvet jewelry box on the counter. They found my father's loaded gun on the table and my mother's tire tracks leaving the house. My father lay dead on the floor.

When the social worker told me that my mother had abandoned me, she paused as if to offer me time to process this news.

She didn't know that the words she said blew hollowly through me, bouncing around but not sticking as if they were of no importance to me. I would've given the same response if you said that a stranger's dog had run away, although that phrase might garner some of my sympathy.

"Are you okay, Sloane? It's alright if you're not," the social worker asked me with a stiff pat on the shoulder. Her question was ludicrous. Why did she assume I wasn't okay and then ask me if I was? Was it because my okay-ness would be helpful to her, or because she wanted me to break down sobbing so she could be the one to comfort me?

I sighed tiredly, already bored of reading too much into things. I wasn't capable of comprehending everything that had happened. I wasn't capable of anything besides standing and existing for the time being.

"I'm more than okay," I lied, as police officers shuffled out of the front door. My older brother was being escorted out of the house.

My voice cracked as I saw the tear streaks down his cheeks and the devastation on his face. He was always the strong and silent type, more likely to punch someone in the face than break down crying. He caught my eyes and tried to run towards me but they stopped him by forming a barricade with their arms.

"SLOANE!" he shouted, using all the strength of a 14-year-old to push past them.

"That's my brother!" I shouted, trying to run to him. I dove under the social worker's arm as she tried to pull me back and I ran into his arms after he did the same. We collided hard on the front lawn of our house and he wrapped his arms around me as I tucked my head on his chest.

"Sloane," he choked out, his body wracked with horrible, broken sobs. I began to cry too, finally releasing the emotions that had been building inside me since I walked through the door and found him.

"Koda," I mumbled back through my tears, snot leaking onto his football jersey. He brushed my hair off of my face and behind my ear.

"It's okay," he said bravely, his brown eyes that perfectly matched my father's looking into my blue ones. "We're going to be okay!"

"What happened?" I demanded through tears, trying to look past him into the house. Vibrant yellow crime scene tape crossed the threshold like a decorative garland and cops walked in and out with purpose. He grabbed my chin and forced it away, shaking his head at me.

"Don't look in there," he commanded. I nodded, hiding on his chest once more.

"D-do they think you did it?" I asked seriously, as the policemen reached us and placed their hands on his shoulders. They pressed forcefully until he released his hold and was urged towards the street.

"No!" he reassured me as they led him away. "They're just asking me a couple questions."

"W-who do they think...?" I stuttered, shaking in the cold. I wrapped my arms around my body and shivered from worry and the night air.

The policemen laced their arms through his and pulled him away, as he struggled to reach me again. I ran towards him but my social worker grabbed my hand and tugged me back from him, breaking us apart.

He met my eyes from across the yard and mouthed "Mom". I gasped and covered my mouth with my hand, unable to process what I was hearing. How could my life change so dramatically in the course of an hour? How could all of this be happening to my family?

He squirmed in their grasp but the men around him shoved him easily into the back of their cruiser and flicked the sirens on as they drove away. The red and blue lights raced around the yard until it was flushed with the glow of yellow street lights once more.

"Where is he going?" I demanded, wishing I could leave. My feet felt rooted to this spot along with my mind. I might spend all of my life stuck in this exact location, unable to escape.

The social worker ignored me, answering my next question.

"We have a house where you can stay for a while until we get your permanent living situation sorted out," she said, eyes flickering from my house back to me.

"Where?" I asked, trying to control my emotions once more. Tears wouldn't change what had happened. Nothing could.

"It's not very far away. Only an hour or so to drive," she explained with a tight-lipped smile.

"Where's Koda going?" I begged. "Is he meeting us there after?"

The social worker dropped her smile and sighed.

"I'm afraid Koda won't be going with you," she said, meeting my eyes. Sorrow bled from a place deep inside of them and her forehead wrinkled as she explained the now-obvious.

"He'll be at his own home until we can find something for the two of you," she said, pressing a button on her keychain and unlocking a car parked nearby. "You'll be coming with me."

"I don't want to!" I said, crossing my arms over my chest. I didn't know we could be separated! How could they do that to a family that had already lost so much?

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice," she said as she led me to her car and tucked me inside. I looked out the window in the backseat and watched my house get smaller and smaller as we drove away.

An unfamiliar pain hit me like a wave, and I tasted blood in my mouth as I realized things would never be the same.