Fifteen

Andre's POV:

I stood behind the chairs, watching the pastor minster, Fenwick unlike most cities held the ceremonies after the deceased was buried. Today, I wore my favourite black suit, the Knight of the night, I called it. Truthfully, I never knew why I loved it. Maybe it was the mixture of inner red and the shiny black. I stood picturing myself staring into the mirror, finally, she died, maybe I was relieved of the stress of watching out for her, but again, if she was murdered, then my stalker definitely had her eyes on me now. Why are you so convinced she is the killer? Didn't she say someone broke into your house when she was tired?

My head began memories fixing, coupling each memory with its pair while I focused on letting the tears cloud my eyes.

“Let's give the loved one the opportunity to speak of their loss—Mister Andre?” The pastor beckoned on me.