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I remember the night like it was yesterday. My sister Michelle had returned home late from her friends house. I was 8 and I pretended to be asleep when she checked on me. Every so often I would look at my small alarm clock my mother had given me two years before when I learned how to tell time.
I was a bright kid and I remembered how strange it was that neither of my parents were home, they were both police officers and never worked the same shifts. The babysitter had fallen asleep many hours earlier on the living room couch but Michelle had paid her and she was long gone. It was now 12:34 am and the phone rang. I heard Michelle rush into my parents bedroom to grab the phone in order for it not to wake me up. As I tried hard to listen to the words Michelle was saying next door all I heard was crying.
"Kacey," I heard her call in a strained voice. I jumped out from under my Cinderella sheets and rushed over to her in the dimly lit hallway.
"What happened to mommy and daddy, Michelle?" I asked her. She bent down and hugged me. While sobbing into my shoulder she said in an unsteady voice, "They are dead, Kacey." Those words altered the course of my life forever...
