We were on our way to my house, and all my classmates looked at me strangely and with displeasure. -Could they really believe that she or both of us had something to do with this murder??
I opened the door to my house and quickly climbed the stairs, heading to my sister's room. She was already asleep since it was 2 in the morning; she usually wasn't awake past 11 pm. I turned on the light in her room, and she tried to wake up, still bothered by the light in her eyes. She turned, trying to cover her eyes, and asked, "What's happening?"
I threw the photo at her and she looked at me puzzled. She inquired about what was up with the photo, and all I could think to say to her was, "You don't think he's my boyfriend, do you?"
"Where do you know him from?" I pressed her.
"He was a guy from the math competition," she replied.
"Is he your friend??? Tell me the truth."
"No!! I only met him that day. What's going on??"
"Don't lie to me! Tell me the truth," I shouted, making her jump out of bed.
"I told you, he came in second place at the competition and we just took a photo, that's all."
I got close to Larissa and took her by the face, looked her straight in the eyes, and told her she would regret it if she was lying to me.
I left the room, and my classmates were either beside the door or on the stairs, trying to listen in.
We continued to search that night, but there were no signs of that damn wretch.
Larissa recounts.
I was so scared, but honestly, I knew nothing about what had happened after that day. I had no contact with that guy. I don't understand why my brother can't see that.
After freshening up, I decided to go down for breakfast, and my brother was sitting on a chair in the kitchen, not even looking at me. I offered to have breakfast together, but he didn't answer. There was a knock at the door, and two of his friends turned up, making everything even tenser. I didn't understand why they couldn't believe me; I was telling them the truth.
I offered them something to drink, but one of them looked at me so distastefully that I feared for myself, so I decided to drop it and not invite them to anything.
I grabbed my backpack and left. I couldn't help but start to cry because I didn't want to go through this, and I felt so bad that my brother didn't trust me. When leaving, I bumped into Peñaloza, another of my brother's friends who, seeing me cry, grabbed my arm and asked me to sit down with him. He told me not to cry, that he believed in me, and he knew that I wasn't capable of doing that. -Finally, someone who believes in me- I thought.
He dried my tears and said goodbye.
The following days were very rough. No one talked to me, and there was only one week left before the end of the year dance. I wished my brother would go with me as he had promised, but he was still immersed in his matters. I don't blame him; he was a great friend to him, but I couldn't believe he thought I had anything to do with it. I decided to call my parents and told them that I wanted to go to the countryside with them because I couldn't stand his indifference. My parents told me they'd pick me up, but that my friend, who was the daughter of a family very close to ours, was very excited about that party and that I couldn't miss attending to accompany her, and that besides, it was my big night and I should enjoy it. So I decided to stay until that day and then finally leave with them. The party was on a Saturday, and on Sunday, they would come for me. All that week, I began to pack my things so I could leave and escape from that hell. It hurt a lot to have to leave without being able to restore the relationship with my brother, because how long would it take until he could understand that I wasn't the cause of such an abhorrent act.
The day of the party arrived, and I decided to style my hair and wear the dress I was so anxious to use. I went downstairs and could see my brother in the dining room with his friends. I approached the dining room and spoke to him.
"Hello, how are you?"
They all looked at me strangely because I never dressed up, and I wore a long pink dress with lots of sparkles on the bodice and tulle on the skirt. The dress was long in the back and shorter in the front; I also wore silver shoes, and my brown hair was picked up in a half-tail with waves. My green eyes were made up in silver with eyeliner. I had never worn a dress that showed off my curves, which is why my brother, after seeing me, said to me,
"Where are you going like that??"
"I'm going to the end-of-year dance. Do you want to come with me??"
"Do you see this as a time for parties?" he replied angrily.
"Fine, I'm leaving," I answered, lowering my gaze and turning away.
His attitude saddened me deeply, but I wanted to believe that it would pass eventually.
Demir recounts.
The last thing I needed was for my sister to want to go out dressed like that. It made me sad that she had to go to the dance alone, especially since I promised her a long time ago that this day would be special and that I would be there with her. But I wanted her to come to her senses and tell me the whole truth, or at least give me a clue about where to find that guy.
A call took me by surprise, announcing that they knew the whereabouts of the murderer.
We headed to the van to catch him. We arrived in the neighborhood and saw him armed with other young men.
We moved through the corridors of the place to reach them; stealthily, we had them surrounded, and a shootout began. While my companions covered me, I saw the murderer slipping away. I chased him down the cobbled street until I caught him. I looked him in the face and saw that it was him... The one from the photo was him.
My companions had already dealt with all the criminals, so we put the murderer in the van and took him to a place for interrogation.
We sat him in a chair and tied him up. I began to beat him, asking him why he did it. I hit him, and hit him, and hit him until he said that he wanted to steal the gun but that the other man wouldn't let him, that the only way was to kill him. "Did you enjoy it, you son of a bitch?"
He could only beg that we not kill him, but that was something I couldn't promise. I took the photo of my sister out of my pocket and began to ask him about her and where he knew her from.
He answered that he didn't know her.
"Do you want me to go and blow her away to find out if she was involved?"
"Do what you want; I don't know her, and I don't care," he replied.
"And why do you have a photo with her?"
"Because she beat me in a damn math contest, and it's the only photo I have from that day, but I don't know that girl."
"And how do I know you're not lying??"
"If you want, go and kill her, but she mustn't even know my name."
Everyone looked at me, feeling guilty for having treated my sister that way, but I would try to make amends with her the next day.
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