Prologue (2)

The first thing I did after reading the letter was grab the keys and open the jewelry box. Just like he stated, most of the things inside were jewelry that belonged to a woman. A strong feeling of familiarity washed over me as I ran my finger gently through them. 

If my uncle was a sour subject, then my parents were a taboo. I avoided everything that reminded me of them like the plague. I could still hear the gunshots at the back of my mind, making my body jerk in terror. 

The memory of my screams and cries was still so fresh that sometimes, I almost thought it happened a moment ago. It sent my heart racing out of control each time I remembered it. 

My heart was still racing when I finally looked down into the jewelry box. I slammed it shut, wanting nothing but to lock away the memories from ten years ago, but something stuck out, stopping the box from closing shut. I pulled it out and shut the box, locking it like my life depended on it. 

I picked up the offending necklace and nearly broke down just looking at it.

Forcing myself to calm down, I threw the jewelry box into my old closet, deciding I could sell them later. I shut the door a little too hard, dislodging one of the hinges.

Oops.  

In my defense, this run-down apartment must have existed before the great celestial war and the closet was older than Moses. It was hard not to break everything down while merely cleaning it. 

After draining all my nerves and nearly breaking down, I needed a shower more than anything. I stepped into the bathroom and stripped down, then creaked the old shower into life and waited for the water to warm up before I stepped under it. The water washed down my sorrows—even though it was not nearly as soothing as dancing. I swayed gently to my own rhythm and only when I remembered how insane the water bill had been lately did I hasten my shower. 

____

In the end, I’d had to dance in the living room—the only mildly spacious spot in the house—and poke fun at hooligans in the street and get into a fight. When I had let out some steam by beating the crap out of them, my mind was finally clear enough to read my uncle’s letter again. I had found it strange in innumerable ways. 

I made sure Nana was in bed that night before I went to my room and took it out to scan it word for word, this time more carefully. I stopped at the first part. 

[If you are reading this, you are eighteen and unfortunately, I am not there to see you take your first steps into adulthood.] 

Why the hell did this sound like the opening of a goodbye letter? Did he know he was going to die? I assumed that was not possible because he had not been sick. He was my mother’s younger brother and hadn’t even been forty when he died, which means he was not aging either. Besides, no one ever sees a car accident coming. I froze in my tracks. Unless it was not really an accident. 

I tried to remember the last few months before Uncle Robert's death and came up with nothing. He had been his usual self, spoiling me like he would if I were his biological daughter. 

Except, a year before his death, he had asked me what I thought of being his daughter legally. Everyone had assumed I was his daughter for years. We had the same dazzling brown eyes and raven hair, and adults liked to say I smiled just like him. Of course, that was because he and my mother looked like the other gender’s version of each other and I had inherited most of her features. But truly becoming his daughter was the greatest joy of my life. I didn’t think anything of it and assumed he wanted to be able to make legal decisions regarding me without getting grilled about where my parents were. 

But now that I thought about it, I was already fifteen. Only three years until I was an adult. Logically, it was harder for my uncle to be responsible for me when I was eight and he had just taken me in. Why did he want me to be his daughter after so many years? 

I read the letter again for more clues. Finding none, I shut my eyes and thought deeply. Maybe it was because he wanted me to inherit his estate and it was easier for me to do so as his daughter than as his niece? 

I laughed at my ridiculous hypothesis. I knew at the back of my mind what was happening and just didn’t want to accept it. 

My uncle knew he was going to die. Not of any illness, or he would have included it in the letter. 

[Not every battle is worth fighting. If you fight hard enough, you will win, but sometimes winning comes at a price that’s not worth paying.]

I recalled the part from his letter and filled in the unspoken words. He had paid with his life. 

My hands trembled as the horrifying truth sunk in. That accident was not an accident. The out-of-control truck skidding down the road and crashing into Uncle Robert’s car that rainy night was not a stroke of bad luck. It was planted. Someone had intended to murder my uncle. 

______ 

For the next several days, I had gone through every emotion imaginable. Fury that someone had taken my uncle from me, fear that I might be next, and confusion that he didn’t say a word of it when he knew he was being hunted down. I had cried myself to sleep, feeling the loss all over again, only much worse. 

When I finally managed to get up, I had read the will that had directed me to a cabin at the lakeside and used the larger key to open it. 

I had no idea this cabin existed but it was my uncle’s in every way. Although a thick layer of dust coated the furniture since no one had inhabited it for the last couple of years, the pictures on the wall proved who its owner was. The one that caught my eye was one of him and my mother, hand in hand, laughing at something so hard that my mother had tears in her eyes. They must have been in their late teens or early twenties, and I realized for the first time just how striking my resemblance was to my mother. I could pretend to be the woman in the picture and no one would doubt it for a second. 

I locked the door behind me cautiously and looked around the house for any clues that he might have left behind. Did he know who was trying to kill him? He must have, since he made it a point to mention that not every battle was worth fighting. He was fighting a battle against someone. Who was it? 

The envelope with the will had a blueprint attached to it, and I had taken it when I decided to come here. I took it out of my pocket and unfolded it, using it to find the library. He had been an architect and I had watched him work enough times to know as soon as I saw the blueprint that there was a secret room closed off by the library wall. 

When I got to it, I ran my hand along the wall until I found the inconsistent texture of what I knew must be fake bricks. Sure enough, a neon keypad appeared on one of the fake bricks when I exerted pressure. I entered 0712 and chuckled when the fake bricks, which were in fact a magnetic door, opened. My uncle used the same code for everything that required one. It was a surprise he had not been robbed of everything. 

The door had triggered the motion sensor lights so I walked in, gaping in shock at all the stickers on the walls. He was investigating something. 

I glanced through the pictures on the wall and the labels, my mouth dropping open. What the hell was he doing, investigating the Arciero family? This was suicidal! The Arcieros were said to be a bunch of criminals that no one dared to mess with. Murder, drug smuggling, arson…you name it, they’d done it. I did not want to touch any of those investigation boards with a ten-foot pole.

I was about to brush it off when I caught sight of a date written in bold. 01/07/2008. That was the day my parents died. I slowed down my heavy breathing, trying my best not to break down. I covered the triggering date with my hand and looked around it, at the pictures and stickers around it detailing where various members of the Arciero family were for the few weeks leading up to the day of their death. 

The realization was even harder to swallow than the speculation. My uncle was murdered for investigating my parents’ death.