The letter to my killer.

Two shattered wine glasses were the last thing I remembered before you killed me. I want to start by saying fuck you, fuck you for doing this to me. I have to sit here and watch life just move on as I mourn, and you? You get to live all of your dreams. You didn't have to do this to me. I didn't get to ask why. I didn't cry or beg for my life. You took that from me. My death may come as a surprise for my family because they all know the “good” side of you; they never met the side I saw that night.

We both know I didn't deserve this, I loved you despite all your flaws. I'm angry at myself for falling for you. But I couldn’t resist your forest green eyes that resemble the leaves, brown hair, and your strong jawline. I didn't realize I was gone until I began to have dreams of seeing my family searching for me. I could hear the sound of the bitter winds blowing as they walked. The barn owls watched and the wolves howled as they searched for my lifeless body. You weren't there.

You were at home sitting in your beige chair. You cried but didn't feel anything, the guilt was silently consuming you. I stayed there and watched you as the days went on and the search continued. My family began to become frustrated at the thought of me vanishing without a trace.

It had only been a month since my death. To me, it felt like years. I felt a strong sorrow in my soul, I didn't mean to vanish, I thought that I would come back home to them. I was 21 years old. I had black hair, I loved playing in the band. I liked chocolate ice cream, my favorite color was blue. None of these things were mentioned when I was gone. I became a ghost to some and most didn’t even take the time to remember me.

I wanted to give my family a sign somehow. I decided to visit my twin brothers and mom. I entered our home and I instantly felt chills throughout my body. It was ice cold as the dead of winter and pitch-black since all of the lights were out. I walked to the living room and felt sick to my stomach as I saw my mom laid out on my favorite leather loveseat, with her brown plush blanket I got her this past Christmas. I laid next to her and rubbed my hands through her chestnut hair when suddenly her eyes opened. “ Are you there?” she cried out. Tears filled my eyes, how could she know it was me? She knew I was dead.

I laid with my mom until the next morning. I watched her get up and pray long and hard during her hot shower. I felt joy when she finally washed her hair, brushed her teeth, and wore her favorite perfume. As she finished getting ready to leave our home, she came into my room and sat down on my bed. “We will find you,” she said, as she closed her eyes and let out a sigh of relief. She got out of my bed and headed towards the door. “Let's go guys”, she yelled at my brothers. The twins ran down the stairs and started asking questions. “Is she coming home?” “ It's been a month, mom, maybe she ran away.” Mom ignored them and picked her keys up from the table, slid the side door open, letting the boys out first. “Look mom, it's an owl.” “Hold on honey, give me a second,” she said as she locked the door.

As I watched them search for me again, I felt a sense of peace. I knew this time, they'd find me. “I see something,'' the search volunteers yelled. It was my black lace dress I wore that night, mixed in with the falling autumn leaves and dirt. My mom let out a scream that I'll never forget. The screams echoed through the trees. Leaving everyone with a heavy heart.

I didn't think the discovery would affect people, it was on the news and all through the papers. You received a call that day, you pretended to care, that was the worst. I watched you fall to your knees. You held your hand over your face in dismay. I felt the energy you had that day, pitiless. You didn’t attend my funeral, you told my family you were too grief-stricken and you couldn’t see me like that. Which was funny considering you’re the one who did that to me. That day you told my family those lies, I noticed a white owl sitting on the ledge of your window looking in at you. I walked away solemnly, debating on spending another night with my tortured mother.

Two weeks after my funeral, my mom started searching for my killer, she looked all over for any clue. She even had a meeting with channel 8 news begging for answers. The police decided to question people from my college, my coworkers, and my friends. I understood the process but why didn't they suspect you?

The next day, My mom went to the station and asked the detective if they'd found any new information on the investigation. He told her he'd been still looking into who the prime suspect could be, though there were no clear motives; they still haven't ruled anyone out. As my mom left the station she saw it again, the owl who watched through the cold and lonely nights where my body was left. I realized it was the same owl I had seen on your window sill. She didn't think it meant anything but, at the coffee shop there it appeared again. Watching her as if it had a story to be told. She went home, exhausted, and fell asleep.

While she slept, I went lurking around in her room, there I found things I'd never known she had. In her bathroom linen closet there lay a pink leather journal with a gold lock titled “YOU”. I began looking for a key to the lock which I found in her drawer. I read the journal as tears began rolling down my face. I looked down and noticed each tear-drenched page leaving the words smeared. I finally was done. I put the book back at the top of the closet as my brother walked in the room “What are you doing?”, he asked. “You see me?” I replied, surprised. “ Yes, you’re right here! I thought you were dead!” I am, I thought in my head. My brother was sleeping walking again, which I remembered as he wiped his eyes and headed back down the hall.

The feelings I had after reading the journal filled my head. I really wanted to see you, so I did. As I walked to your house I noticed the night light on. I walked through the back door this time because I knew that my anger would let my presence be known. I wanted to leave you a sign, so I went to our favorite place in the house, the kitchen table. I sat in the chair and cried. You finally came down for your midnight snack. Your favorite, maple brown sugar pop tarts. You noticed the note as you slid your chair out, you were shaken up. “You could've just told me.” the note said laying in front of you. I enjoyed the shaken up look on your face but deep inside I felt the greatest sense of betrayal I have ever experienced.

I looked at your window sill and noticed the white owl had returned except this time it was staring at me with the most piercing eyes. It looked frightening but I felt peace. I saw you frantically grab your keys and run to your car. I knew you were headed to my mothers house.

I arrived at my mothers house to see you and her crying on the couch. You showed her the note and asked her how this could be. She ran to her bedroom and noticed her pink journal wasn’t where she left it. She looked around the room scared, expecting to see a ghost. “Mom!” my brothers yelled, wanting her to come to their room. “Look!” They exclaimed, pointing to the window. There was the owl, beautiful and majestic, yet fierce in a way. The owl was my protector. He watched my killer and his accomplice get away with killing me. The pink journal? Evidence, for my brothers to turn in. I know I said I put it back but I hid it in their room after I wrote this.

Two shattered wine glasses were the last thing I remembered before you killed me. However, your desire to have me off this earth and a mothers desperation to be loved by you are two things I’ll never forget.