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Chapter 1
    Three years later
    Beep! Beep! Beep!
    I moved my hand and turned off my alarm clock, wow, it’s six o` clock already. I groan as I rub my eyes and slowly get our of bed. I took a shower, the warm water wakes me up a bit. After I finish drying off, I put some clothes on.
    As I walk to the mirror, I feel compelled to look at myself again, I’ve felt compelled too ever since Dorothy died. We’ve always had this connection, one that no one could replace.
    People use to mistake us for mother and daughter, it was hard not to, we shared similar features and we had this amazing bond. Dorothy was very protective of me, and she’s always been like a sekunde mother.
    I feel the tears prick my eyes, and I moved my hands over my amulet, a pretty thing Dorothy gave to me a mwezi before she died. I closed my eyes, picturing her excited face the siku she gave it to me, ‘with this amulet, we’ll always be together, forever, hears to our special bond’. I’ll always remember those words she told me, it made me feel special, important.
    But those last few months she’d been alive, she’d always been sad, au jumpy. Having this happy/sad/defeated/and loving look in her eyes, like she knew her death was coming.
    None of us saw it coming though, Dorothy was murdered, found dead in a lake. She had drowned, police alisema it was a few hours since she had. I remember being questioned kwa the police, the horror I had felt at the realization that my sister was really dead. I remember going to the morgue getting a good look at her, her skin pasty, her eyes dead and empty as they looked at me, those eyes still haunt me in my dreams.
    Now these are not normal boring dreams, where the sadness and horror I feel are projected to what I think happened to her. No, these dreams are always scary, having this creepy pattern, as if a message is trying to be sent.
    I have visions, I can see and hear things others can’t. Sometimes when I’m alone in the house, au I’m trying to go to sleep, I’d hear this voice screaming. I didn’t know who it was, and I couldn’t comprehend what the person was saying. The voice sounded like it was static like on those radio’s.
    But I’m thinking it sounds weird and disoriented because of water. I’m thinking those were my sister’s last words before she died, muffled kwa the sound of water clogging her throat.
    My dreams are no better, I remember one when I was in the dark, running from something. I didn’t see them, but I could feel them there, there presence dark, chasing and waiting, one wrong songesha and it was all over.
    The dreams and visions aren’t as powerful as before, they don’t make me scream at night, au make me feel this unbearable pain. I can ignore it, au at least somewhat ignore it.
    My visions have landed me in a psychiatrist chair, angering my parents at the precious money they have to spend. Not even caring that my vision’s have to do with their deceased daughter. But then again, they’ve never cared, so why start now?
    I feel a single tear escape my eye, annoyed I wiped it away, and turned around, not facing the mirror anymore. It would only bring pain.
    I walked into the jikoni and made myself some eggs and good natured bacon, I noticed that things were unusually quiet, I turned towards my parents.
    For once they were silent, no bickering au yelling at each other, instead they looked tense. When my mother saw me looking she forced a tight smile out, but her eyes looked relieved as if she wanted a reason to talk to me.
    “Good morning sweetie, I see you’ve made breakfast,” she eyes my chakula hungrily, and wearingly, for once trying not to steal something I made for myself.
    “Yeah, that’s what people do when they wake up in the morning,” I tell her, not even trying to be polite this morning, I was to hinged to deal with her. “I’m getting ready for school.”
    Mom’s smiled faltered a bit, “your not going to school today.”
    I scrunch my eyes, “and why is that?”
    “The police have called us in, something about new evidence on Dorothy’s case, they’ve asked for all of us.”
    “Really?” I felt like jumping up and down with joy, I smiled widely, but my smile left my face in half a second.
    My parents didn’t look as jovial as I felt, they looked annoyed, as if they forced to waste some of their precious time, which is mostly them at each other’s neck.
    “Aren’t wewe happy at all?” I asked them, eating my chakula quickly. They didn’t say anything, they just looked around for a distraction.
    “Come on, Destiny, we’ll eat breakfast later,” dad told me, holding out his hand.
    Instead I ignored them, eating my chakula slowly, purposely angering them.
    “Stop being so difficult,” mom sighed.
    “At least I’m the one excited to have a lead on your daughter’s murder case,” I said, harshly, getting up and dangling my key in their faces. “I’ll drive my own car.”
    Taking my plate of breakfast, I strode out of the house. They didn’t chase me and I didn’t care.