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CHAPTER SEVENTY NINE - MAKING A MURDERER
ALBERT
MORE THAN FIVE DECADES AGO
My shirt tucked into my high trousers that passed over my waist, yet i still stared into the mirror with satisfaction as my mother called out my name.
"Ronald!"
She yelled repeatedly as though she was a mile away, her high pitched voice somehow managing to startle me as i adjusted the bow tie around my collars.
I picked up my bag and hung it on my shoulders, on only a strap of my old school suspenders before i rushed down the stairs. "I'm coming-" I responded.
The sole of my shoe slapped against the wooden floors as i hastily walked towards the kitchen and right into the pungent puff from my father's cigarette as his feet across the chairs brushed against mine.
His silent glare pierced in judgment as he assessed my clothes from my hat to my oiled school shoes.
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