Becky Snow was finally content. As her sister, I couldn't have been more happy for her. After years of trouble, she put her life together. She was telling me her dreams, her plans for the future. Smiling, laughing and dancing around, she wanted to play hide and seek. Tying a blindfold around my eyes she twirled me.
That's when the door opened with a bang. Let me fast forward the most dreadful hours of my life:
Someone swung a rod, with a loud crack and a bone chilling scream, Becky fell with a thud. Almost immediately I reached for the fabric covering my eyes, but two hands stilled me. I screamed for help but my head was banged on the wall, repeatedly.
I didn't stop fighting. Struggling to maintain consciousness, I stood up. But I was bashed again, the person wrapped me around a blanket and I was thrown inside the closet.
That was the last word from my sister before I blacked out. I woke up three days later in a hospital. People said Becky Snow died. In a terrible car crash. My whole life came to an abrupt pause. Few days later, people showed up to her funeral. I didn't play detective, I didn't dig up the dirt, asked no questions.
I carried the secret with me for two years. Now suddenly, people are getting curious about Becky. With new sectors to hide, new people enter.
An anonymous text gives me the map to find Becky's killer. I don't want to follow it. But I'm forced to. My mistake lures me into a tunnel of danger. It gets darker and darker.
There's no going back now.