Three

"It is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."

- J.K. Rowling

I burst through the front door as fast as I can. What I see is heart-wrenching. The curtains are pulled down from the bar above the window, the papers for the monthly payment for the house are scattered everywhere. There are lounging chairs flipped over, but the most horrifying thing is my mother's body, lying motionless on the ground. Her eyes are wide open with horror and surprise. There is blood coming from her nose, hands, legs, head, and chest. There are shards of glass everywhere from the windows and mirror in the hall. I can't bear to see the knife in her chest.

I almost fall over at the sight of it all. I decide not to panic. I can't just melt down and give up all hope of life.

I walk into the kitchen, and grab the cordless telephone from the place it is sitting on the wall, and dial 9-1-1.

"Hello, 9-1-1," says a stern but kind voice of an officer. "How may I be of service to you?"

"Hello," I say, my voice quivering. "My name is Eleanor Jones. I live on 41st Street, downtown Gulfport, Mississippi. I came home from school today and found my mother dead in our living room." Tears fill my eyes, and it's getting harder for me to speak.

"Oh," says the officer. "Where are you?"

"Just at my house in my kitchen," I reply.

"What did you say your name was?" I swallow hard.

"Eleanor Jones." There is a pause between the officer and me.

"House number?"

"2394."

"We'll be right there."

Parallelized, I put the phone back, and walk over to the kitchen table. I sit down slowly, lay my head down, and begin to sob. Before, I hadn't really thought about it, but now I see that my mother has been murdered, and I am an orphan. But how can this be? What had my mother done to anyone to deserve this? And what about my father? If he is still alive, that meant I wasn't an orphan, but freaking parent-less at the moment.

After about five minutes, the doorbell rings. I wipe the tears from my eyes and face, and go to answer the door.

I open the door to find a tall officer with a bushy mustache and no hair on his head, while the woman next is only slightly taller than me, with no facial hair, but a lot of hair on her head. They both look very kind, and both concerned for me.

"Come in," I choke. The woman steps in, and embraces me in her arms.

"I know how this feels," she breathes as the other man goes to inspect the crime. "Everything will be okay." I look up a few inches at the woman. I sigh and she walks to the man.

"Murder," he says. "That's for sure." I sigh.

"Will we be able to save her?" I ask, my voice still quivering. The man exchanges looks with the woman. The woman sighs, opening her mouth, but she doesn't have to say a word. I know. I burst into tears, running downstairs to my room.

I slam the door to my room, and collapse down onto my bed. I scream bloody murder into my pillow. This can't be happening. This is a dream. I need to wake up. Wake up, Eleanor! Wake up! But I am awake, and this isn't a dream. My mother really is dead, and I can't save her. And my stupid father won't reveal himself.

I haven't ever seen my father. I think my mom had taken away all the pictures of him since he disappeared. Or at least she told me he disappeared. I don't know what happened, but I'm not allowed in mom's room, so I don't know what she hides in there.

After about half an hour, I hear a knock on the door. I didn't say anything, but the male officer comes in anyway.

"Eleanor?" he asks. I sit up to reveal my tear-stained face.

"Yes?" I say quietly.

"Where does your father work? We think we should inform him of your mother…"

"I don't know," I snap, tears coming down again. "He disappeared when I was born. At least that is what mom told me." The officer sighs.

"How old are you, Eleanor?" he asks.

"Seventeen," I mumble, wiping my face for the billionth time today. The man hands me a tissue. I take it, but all I do is crumple it in my hands.

The man walks towards the door. "Um," he hesitates. "My companion and I will stay the week or so. We'll be upstairs if you need us." He walks out of the room and shuts the door, leaving me in the dark. I bury my face into my pillow, and scream. I'm crying again.

The rest of the night I am screaming into my pillow, and crying myself to sleep. I wake up after twenty minutes every time I fall asleep.

As usual, I wake up at 2:46 to the sound of my name. I sigh, and I find tears running down my face again. For the first time ever, I am able to go back to sleep after my name is called. Maybe it's because I am crying, or maybe I am just super tired from waking up every twenty minutes, but it doesn't matter. I am asleep.

* * *

"Coochie coo!" says my mother. I giggle as I wag my chubby legs everywhere. Suddenly, a loud crack! of thunder sounds. I am crying; I am frightened. My mother picks me up, and cradles me in her arms. "Shh. . ." my mother soothes. "It's just nature's way of saying hello." I am falling asleep in her arms as she slowly and softly tickles my legs…

* * *

I wake up the next morning with more energy in me than any other day, but I am not happy. I am the saddest I've ever been in my life.

I walk up the stairs and see the two officers sipping coffee on the couch.

"Good morning," I say hoarsely.

"Morning," says the woman. The man grunts in response. I notice they are very awkward this morning.

"What's going on?" I ask cautiously. They both fidget around.

"What?" I ask more urgently. The man stands up.

"We were," he coughs. "Inspecting last night, and we…" Now the woman is standing up, hiding her hands behind her back.

"We found this." She reveals a knife in her hands.

"So?" I ask in frustration. "I know my mom was murdered with a knife. The one in her chest."

"Yes," the woman continues. "But this is a different knife…" There is a pause.

"Where was it?" I ask nervously. The woman clears her throat.

"In…" she stutters.

"Where was it?!" I scream.

"In her hand," the woman says quickly.

"What?" I ask in disbelief.

"In her hand," she repeats. "In her hand."