My Family's Murder

The click of the door opening is unexpected. 

A lady walks in. She reminds me of Amelia. She’s young and has a smile that oozes positivity yet confidence. I’m probably her first case since she hasn't been jaded to the world yet. 

Dr. Scott was the only one they ever sent in here, so I don’t know why they're trying a new one now. It’s been three years already. 

She sits in the chair across from my bed, all nice and cozy. I don’t move, keeping my knees tight against my chest. 

“Hello, Sandy,” she begins, her voice warm. She even sounds like Amelia, and I close my eyes for a second to listen. 

“You can call me Dr. Tanner.” 

Probably not going to happen, but ok. 

“I’d like you to tell me what happened that summer,” she replies casually while adjusting her coat. Almost like we’re having a normal conversation instead of an interrogation.  

I scoff. Everyone wants to know that. No matter how many times I tell them. 

“There's nothing to tell that I haven't already,” I tell her, my voice hoarse. 

She smiles. I don’t like it. 

She opens the file on her lap. “On July 3rd, three years ago, your family went to Virginia, correct? Your father rented out a cabin by the lake. Sounds like a nice vacation.”

I say nothing, opting to let her give me all the information she thinks she has. 

“On your 4th night there, so July 7th, one of the neighboring cabins reported shouting. Would you like to tell me about that?” 

No, not really. 

We sit there, staring at each other. Dr. Tanner crosses her legs. When the cuff of her pants raises slightly, I see she has a birthmark on her ankle. Amelia had one there too. Even the shape was similar. 

She flips through her papers for a different one. 

“Your father had been served many DUIs before then, and all of your neighbors can attest that he had a temper. It certainly paints him in a bad light for what happened.”

I feel nauseous thinking about all the blood. “I got mud on my shoes,” I add quietly. “He made me take out the trash in the rain. He never did that to Amelia.”

Dr. Tanner watches me. 

“Is that why you stabbed him?”

“He grabbed my hair and started beating me, what was I supposed to do? The knife was right there, and Amelia shouting at him wasn’t doing anything.”

I still remember the way I froze when I felt his hand in my hair. The way I hoped it would only be shouting again. During those last couple of months, he had escalated to physical violence. He beat Amelia too, but never as bad. Maybe he liked that my bruises went away faster since it meant he could add more. 

“One of his slaps threw me onto the counter. I saw a knife. The rest you already know.” 

“Then what happened?” She closes her files and leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. 

“He took the knife from me and started stabbing Amelia.”

“While he was dying from the slit in his throat?”

“He was bigger than me. It was easy to take the knife.”

“Why would he go after Amelia, though?”

“She was shouting. He was the only one allowed to shout.”

Dr. Tanner sat there quietly. 

“Sandy…can you tell me why your fingerprints were the only ones we found on the knife?”

“He wiped it off.”

“With what? And why?” The skeptical tone in her voice annoys me. 

“His shirt,” I tell her with a shrug. “He must not have liked all the blood on the knife.” So much blood. It was everywhere. I can still feel it, warm on my hands. 

The look on her face says, “He was dying, why would it matter?” but instead she asks, “Why’d you pick it up again then?” 

I take a deep breath in and out. I don’t look away from Dr. Tanner. 

“I wanted a weapon in case he got back up again.”

We sit there, listening to the other doctors in the hall, and my cell neighbor throwing herself against the wall. 

“Do you want to know what I think, Sandy?” 

No. 

“What do you think, Doc?”

She tilts her head, and the light from my single window settles on her face. She doesn’t look similar to Amelia, she is Amelia at that moment. 

“I think, what you said about what happened to your father was true. No one can fault you for that. You were young and scared.”

Young and scared didn’t apply when the police had me in an interrogation room for 12 hours after they wrapped Dad and Amelia in bags. I wait for the twist in her explanation. 

“But I also think, you’re lying about what happened after. To Amelia…. I think you stabbed her.”

A loud thump behind me from “wall banger” echoes in the quiet room. 

They all think that. No one said it, but they all think it. Have files on it. Me insisting Dad did it is the reason I’m in here. 

“Why would I do that?” I seethe. 

“You were jealous. Amelia, despite being older, never got your father’s wrath the same way you did. You were also angry she never helped you, something you feel the older one should have done.”

I remember the way I stared at Amelia’s body after. It hadn’t been a conscious thought, it just happened. My hand had started rubbing my hair where Dad pulled, trying to take the sting away. I got blood in it. I had to shower a bunch of times to get it all out. 

Doc continues, “She made it worse by suggesting calling the cops after you killed your father. It would have been the same treatment all over again.”

“You’re crazy. Maybe we should switch places.”

“Or maybe you’re just a murder.”

I take off an institution-issued sock and throw it at her. “NO!”

The sock hits the wall behind the chair and falls to the ground. 

I breathe hard, staring at the empty chair. 

Another thump on the wall. I’m the only one who hears it in the empty room.