Mary Beth's POV:

   I   hoped no one would ever be able to trace the crimes back to me.

  Who was I kidding?

    I was guilty as  I could be.

 My sister was afraid of me.

She made that clear when she let the police assign her to stay somewhere else.

I can not say I blame her.

  I am not trustworthy. Not anymore, at least.

I ran to my room and got out a scarf.

I used it to hide the wound.

The marks from him.

The gashes my father made when he tried to kill me.

 I could rest assured his death was in self-defense.

How could I prove it?

I removed it. I applied a little makeup to the area.

I put the scarf back on me.

Somehow, I felt cold.

Maybe it was because I was cold-hearted.

Is that why I accidentally snuffed out the life of the only one who loved me?

I never made straight A's, so what?

I was not popular.

I did not date.

I was a nobody.

Is that why he did it?

Is that why he attacked me?

Was it that or something more sinister?

  I shuddered at the horrible memory.

 No matter what, I was the guilty party.

I stood in my room.

The police continued to search the house.

I cleaned the blood off my right cheek.

It still burned.

I tried to bandage it, but my hands were shaking.

I was a nervous wreck. 

I  sat on my bed in dismay.

I must have dozed off.  Later, I heard voices talking about me.

the story continues in Chapter 13

Until then,

bye-bye, little owlets!

Summer out!