I felt her walk in to my room last night, and she is standing here now while I'm writing. She likes to come and see us quite often but can never pick up the strength to say hello one last time. She is still my sister even though she is dead and I still love her and I know she loves me. I think she is sad, she is crying over my shoulder as she reads the words, I can feel her breathe down my neck and it is cold like an ice-cube or a snowball. When she left I knew she would come back and she did but no one else could see her like me standing in the kitchen, next to her bed upstairs. I felt try to hug me once before her arms froze me solid but they were warm to me like they always had been, before she died. Before she was killed. Sometimes I will wake at night and she will be there by my bed, crying, and I will talk to her for a while but after a bit she will tell me to go to sleep and I will see her soon. She has told me she is better now, safer, that she will come back soon but the tears freeze on her cheeks and shatter like china on the floor and I know now she will never be back here, not really.
Policeman still line the streets each night for a few hours watching for her murderer but she has told me he will not be fooled that easily, that he is careful not to let that happen. I watch him in the morning carry his rubbish outside for the bin-men to collect and then retreat to his lair of lies and deceit. I watch him leave for work and return home later that day, I know his every move. I learn the way he travels and how he travels. I mimic his every motion like he did my sister. I watch him until I know everything he will do every day of every week and I see what he does and how he does it, and all the time she is there watching- like I do. Like he does.
I am ready to go, inside the lair and find my sister so she can leave here, leave the 'In-between' and move on. He is gone. He will not be back for a while so I can go now and find her sleeping, she can not help me now. She is weak and can't come back to us, only the other side, nowhere else. Everyone is gone, the street is cold and empty, no one will see if I go now, if I run.
The house is normal on the inside but it feels strange I can feel her here somewhere, she is hidden. He has hidden her away from us, from the sun. Upstairs is the same, quiet and peaceful but she is still here, locked away and I need to find her and bring her home. The cabinet next to the bed is open wide and something I seem to recognise beckons me to go closer. It is hers, her hat sticks out the top of the drawer and her gloves are ripped and stained red. I empty the drawer on his bed and shuffle through its contents. Hair- hers. Hat- hers. Scarf- hers. Gloves- hers. Keys- hers. Hers. Hers. Hers. Hers. Hers! He is home, but it isn't time, he's early, but he can't be early. I sneak to a room at the front of the house and head for the window. It's locked. I stand still as he walks beneath me slowly making his way to the dining room. I step back but the floorboards creak under my feet. He turns and begins to run and so do I. He sees me as I pass the stairs to the bedroom where I found her things and i throw the drawer at the window smashing it to pieces. He is at the top of the stairs and as he runs in through the door I am already out the window but I slip and fall down on to the grass. He looks out the window and down at me then he turns and runs. I struggle to stand up on my twisted ankle and as I pull my self to my feet and begin to run the back door flies open. He chases me and I barely make it to the openness of the street where he can not get me, but her things are still in there and so is she.
I go home and dad sits in the kitchen on his own, nothing is cooking and the TV set is switched off. He just sits in silence. I whisper "Dad?" and he lifts his head enough to see my face, then he nods and looks back down to the laminate floor. "I've found her dad" I tell him and he looks at me again and shakes his head. "She's in the house over there" I whisper pointing to the house from which I just jumped out the window. He has her hat and her gloves and scarf and hair. He looks up and a single tear rolls down his cheek. As he wipes it away he mouths the word "body?" and I shake my head. He drops back into a slump. "Dad I could feel her, she was in there" he stopped and looked up at me. "Dad!" I begged "Stop this Lindsey! She's dead, your sister's dead" he burst into tears. I tried to hug him but he pushed me away before I left I placed the journal I found in the drawer on the table next to him.
Susie doesn't visit anymore. Harvey got away before the police could capture him but he died after his car was hit by a lightning bolt. I never said goodbye to her and we never found her body but it doesn't matter, Suzie is free. And life goes on.