That night, I decided to make pasta for dinner since Mom had gone to bed around six-thirty. My dad had just got home from work about ten minutes ago and we were both hungry.

So I brought the steaming pot of Penne noodles over to the sink and drained them. Then I brought the pot back over to the stove and set it down.

“Dinner’s ready!” I called up the stairs. Dad came barreling down the carpeted steps and sat down at the kitchen table.

“Smells good,” he commented.

“It’s just pasta.” I told him. He grinned weakly at our attempt to act like things were normal.

I dished out two bowls of noodles and drenched them in pasta sauce. Then I grabbed two forks and walked over to the table with it all. I set one bowl down in front of Dad and the other in front of myself.

It felt strange to eat dinner with two people missing from the table. And it also felt strange to eat in complete silence. There was always talk at the dinner table at my house. That was just the kind of people we were. We were always happy and content.

But when one of those beloved family members was taken away from us, it made a huge difference. We were no longer one whole. Instead we were three separate people living together in the same house. Yeah, my mom was still my mom and my dad was still my dad. But without Becca we seemed like less of a family.

I speared the last noodle that was left in my bowl with the silver fork I was holding and popped it into my mouth. When I was all finished, I stood up and rinsed my bowl out in the sink, putting it in the dishwasher afterwards.

“I’m going to go to bed.” I informed Dad. “I have school tomorrow.”

“Rachel,” he replied, “you don’t have to go to school if you don’t want to. If it’s too soon, your mother and I completely understand.”

I knew he was trying to be a considerate and empathetic father, but in my opinion, the best way to get over something was to move on with your life. Which is why I declined his offer. “Thanks, but no thanks.” I said. “I think that school will help take my mind off of everything anyways.”

He nodded in response, “Ok, but if you change your mind, just tell me.”

I gave him a halfhearted smile, “Ok, Dad.” Then I sauntered upstairs and into my room, slipping out of my jeans and t-shirt and into plaid flannel pajama pants and a plain black camisole. I ascended into my bed and burrowed myself under the covers, relaxing all of my muscles from top to bottom.

Then I closed my eyes and dozed off into a deep sleep.


“Lindsey?” Bobby demanded. “I thought you left! You were eavesdropping on us?” he shouted.

She laughed sheepishly, “Um, I wouldn’t call it eavesdropping.”

“Well what would you call it?” he challenged.

“What’s the matter, Bobby?” Becca spoke out. “Are you afraid that she’ll find out?” Her tone was harsh, malicious, hateful. It wasn’t Becca. It couldn’t have been.

“Find out about what?” Lindsey asked, curiosity taking over.

“Nothing,” Bobby said hastily. “In fact, you should go now, Lindsey.”

“But I want to know what the two of you are talking about.” she whined.

Becca grinned cynically, “Go ahead,” she began. “Tell her, Bobby.”

He looked down at the hard, cold cement floor of our garage in shame, not responding to that.

“What’s wrong?” Becca inquired. “You don’t want other people to know about it? Is that why you kept it from me this entire time? Because you wanted to keep it a secret?” she raged, her nostrils flaring. “Well secret’s out! You can’t hide it from me anymore!”

“I’m sorry, ok?” he shot back, raising his head to look her in the eye. “I can’t help it though.”

A single tear trickled down Becca’s cheek. “You told me you loved me.”

“I did, and I still do. But when I told you that, I didn’t realize that I loved you in a different way than I thought. I love you as a friend. But I love her as much more than that.”


I woke up, my breathing sharp and choppy. I took a deep breath, swallowing hard as I regained control of myself. I’d had another dream. And it had picked up right where I’d left off at in the last one.

Was I going to have these dreams every night now? Would they continue picking up where I’d left off until I knew the whole story? Until I knew who killed my sister.

I was slightly intrigued by this thought, yet at the same time I was nervous. I wanted to know who killed Becca, but what would I do when I found out?

Of course, I’d tell the police right away. But what was I suppose to give as evidence? Was I supposed to tell them that I saw who killed her in my dreams? They’d think I was a whack job!

And also, I wasn’t so sure if I would be able to deal with seeing my sister get killed. But even if I didn’t want to have these dreams, how was I meant to stop them?

I couldn’t. I knew I couldn’t.

So I’d just have to deal with them. But they were beginning to lead me to figure out who the killer was. And they were definitely surprising.

Bobby was in love with someone else! That was such a shock that I was still straining to believe it entirely. But who could he be love with? Unless…

No, that couldn’t be! He told me that I was a difficulty because Becca told him that she thought I had a crush on him, not because he was in love with me. Besides, he couldn’t possibly be in love with me. He barely knew me. Although, he had seemed to be acting a little bit strange when I asked him about it earlier at Starbucks. But the thought just seemed so out of the question that it was hard for me to believe.

But it did make sense. He loved me, Becca found out, Becca got jealous, Becca threatened to tell me about it, he got angry and killed her so that I wouldn’t find out. Or maybe he loved me, Becca found out, Becca got jealous, Lindsey also got jealous, Lindsey thought that it was all Becca’s fault for going out with him in the first place, Lindsey let her anger get the best of her, and Lindsey killed Becca.

Both stories were very probable, but I wasn’t sure which one was true. Or maybe I was just letting my imagination and paranoia get the best of me. Maybe Bobby didn’t even love me. Maybe he still loved Lindsey and they worked together to kill Becca because she was getting in the way of their relationship.

Well this was just wonderful. Now I was thinking of so many different possible explanations for who killed Becca and why they did it, that I was even more unsure of who killed her than I was in the first place.

And the more I thought about it, the more baffled and unsure I became. There were just so many possibilities that I couldn’t decide which one actually happened. For all I knew, I could be way off and none of them could be true.

For all I knew, I was just going crazy and these dreams I was having weren’t even true. Maybe the death of my only sibling had shaken me up so much that I was beginning to slowly lose my mind.

But whether I was going crazy or not, I knew one thing for sure. I had to talk to Bobby about it.