The Lengths Of Love (ON HOLD)

Chapter 1

(Shoutout to LaurenLove18x for being the first person to shelve my book before I accidentally unpublished it. Plus, that is close to how I imagine Austin looking.)

Before I was committed to Rosegrave, I went through all the emotions; denial of what happened, anger that it did happen, replaying the what if's over in my head, before I was consumed by depression, at least for a while. It got to the point where for almost a month I didn't leave my bed except to use the washroom.

Once I allowed myself to accept what had happened to my mom, I felt a burst of something.That something was determination. Determination to find out what happened to my mother on the night of July 19, 2013. 

Personally, I think this sudden burst of determination was my mom's way of telling me to get off my butt because she didn't raise me to just sit around when things got tough. She raised me to become a strong independent woman.

I had always had my suspicions of what happened. Police had said she was killed by someone who knew her so when they arrested my uncle, it shouldn't have been such a surprise. But, it didn't make sense. I couldn't see any reason why uncle Brian would've killed my mom. He had been the one who set my parents up. He had no reason to want to split them up like the police have suggested.

My mother had been strangled which police say infers there was a relationship between victim and killer. They said this gave them more of a reason to believe my uncle did it. She was killed between 11:45 PM and 12:30 when my uncle was still at the house. At least just before midnight.

For the longest time, I'd tried to muster up the courage to visit him. I needed to know why. But, I never got the chance. He's been sitting in jail for the past 3 ½ years and I could never find the strength to visit him. He'd written many letters, none of which I've read. I stored them in a little box that now sat in the corner of my hospital room. I would only open them when I could bring myself to reopen that door in my life. I love him, he's my uncle, but it's so hard and confusing. Some people are saying things that I'd never think of when thinking of Uncle Brian. It's hard to have people you know and don't know telling you things about some you grew up around. It's enough to confuse anyone, right?

At times like those, it's hard to know if you ever really knew someone at all. I couldn't help but feel responsible for having my uncle arrested. I mean if he did it, then why do I still feel guilty? I mean I did cause the cops to look at him even when I knew the cops still thought he took my sister. If I hadn't told Officer Cosgrove that he was there that night, he might not be in jail right now. He could have watched his kids grow up. However, I still have the feeling it might have made him look worse if I didn't mention he'd been visiting. They would have thought he murdered my mom and skipped town. That probably the conclusion they reached anyway.

My mother always told me to follow my instincts. She'd say, 'If something seems too good to be true, you're probably right. Follow your gut, always.'

I did exactly as she told me. I began keeping a detailed journal of details from the case. I even had files from the LAPD, with whatever information they'd obtained. But, I only had the records they'd given me before I was institutionalized. After that, I was unable to receive anything concerning the case, mostly because my father prohibited it. He thought if I continued to receive those files, my mental state would continue to deteriorate. At least that's what I was told. After that, I had to be very careful with the files I was able to keep.

Nurses often saw me writing in a journal. They probably thought it was a diary.

One time, one of the nurses tried to take my journal and I freaked out. I couldn't lose all the information I'd gathered to bring justice to my mother. Sure it was still in my head, but it gave me peace of mind to have it carefully laid out. It had many different sections; suspects, timeline, evidence, etc. Things were even highlighted by specific colours. After I freaked out on that one nurse, no one has since tried to take journal from me, in fear I'd get irritable and lash out.