The last thing I remember the most about seeing Elizabeth was her eyes, once bright and shiny with the warmth of spring hazelnuts has dulled and dimmed with the cold finality of death. Gone, was the summer evenings we would lay on the porch, allowing to sun to hit our bodies and cool down our faces in the soothing shade.

The lovely Elizabeth I once knew is gone; a corpse now waiting to return to the heaven above, but first, she must lay down to rest, encased in her earthly prison.

Me and mum visit her often, but its not the same. Staring at the cold stone, instead of her warm oak coloured eyes.

Usually, at around 5 pm, just when mum comes back from work, we head over to the graveyard, food and flowers in tow. We trek through the overgrown grass, and over the bridge to the graveyard.

As usual it was quiet, not many people visited the graveyard as often as us. I'd guess it's because their just busy wrapped up in there lives without their loved ones and not because they've forgotten them, after all it's natural to be caught up in more pressing current affairs than things that are long gone. No matter how painful or life changing a thing was.Though I do have to admit it is easier said than done .

Just look at my mum, she may not say it but it's clear that she can't move on. All the habits she had when Elizabeth was still here,going into her room to wake her up ,making an extra portion for food even calling me Elizabeth, are proof enough that Elizabeth is still hardwired into her brain.

As the days go by these events are only becoming more frequent. More and more, she confuses me for her or calling out her name only for silence.

Her mental state is deteriorating right in front of me and nothing I do or what anyone else is doing is helping.

The adults are talking they say , you'd think what they're saying helpful but in reality it's not. Overnight, we've the No.1 topic of discussion, our lives dissected for the whole world to see. The welfare checks are so increasing for every 3months to every month to every week. Badgering me and mum with questions that we don't even have time to answer .

My are GCSEs are fast approaching and mum's positron at work it precarious enough despite all she went through, so we

just can't deal with anything else right now.

I turn to mum,her face is still as a statue, frozen, stoic,trying to keep it together . I know she's doing her best for me but you don't have to look hard to see her façade.Look at all the pain losing Eli has done to us.

So ever since that day, I knew not to trust anyone lest I want to end up like Elizabeth.

Every since Elizabeth was gone, things haven't been the same. I haven't been the same. I don't hang out with my friends and food seems like a chore .

tbh,no one could ever cook food like Eli anyway,but I still need to eat so mum doesn't worry.

As soon as ,my mum realised this behaviour she signed me up for weekly therapy to help me cope, but I don't think it's working.

They don't really understand my situation and I can tell .Maybe they don't work with a lot of people who had murdered siblings.

Maybe this is Elizabeth's way of making sure I don't forget about her, but so would anyone who was there when she died.

Earlier this summer was the last time I ever saw Elizabeth.

That morning was quiet, no one had anywhere to be so most of us slept in, except Elizabeth she was up and dressed since 7:30 am.

Elizabeth was always an early bird, making sure the house was clean and breakfast was made. Mother always joked that she was my second mum, because of how she always helped around the house.

I woke up at around 8:00am, to her in the foyer lacing up her Doc Martins to go out, not looking back she said "Morning, how was your night? "

"Good, how was yours?" I sat on the stair case, still delirious from sleep, rubbing the crust from my eyes.

"Good, There's food in the fridge for you and mum, I'm going out to see a friend." she got up and looked in the mirror, fixing her hair, making sure their weren't any fly-aways, checking everything was perfect. 

"When are you coming back and does mum know?" I inquired, gazing at her intently.

"Yeah, I told her on Friday and I'm coming back at 5pm."

She's lying, I can smell one from a mile away.

"Ok, call me if you need a lift home."

"Sure, I will, but I'll probably take the bus home. "

She was just about to leave through the door when I went up to hug her good bye.

"Wait, have you said goodbye to mum?" Her eyes drifted away, guiltily, knowing that just one look in my eyes will reveal her secret. 

"Umm, yeah, sorry, I just don't want to worry her." Bullshit, you just don't what to tell her where you are going.What is she up to?

"You do realise by not telling her where you are going you are going to make her worry even more?" I scan and scrutinised her, trying to decipher the truth, but her face was impenetrable. I finally gave up. " Ok, I trust you won't do anything stupid and I'm sure that if you are going out and not telling mum it would be for a good reason."

Elizabeth's face soften, releasing a sigh of relief .

"Thank you," she breathed, embraced me in a tight hug . It reaffirmed my faith in her. Afterall, she's too perfect to engage with the wrong crowd. Even in school she's know as an angel, always handing in homework,doing charity events and suggesting ways that the school could be more inclusive for neurodivegent and disabled students.

I know these are things that sound objectively nice but she genuinely is, pure and good like a saint.

She could do no wrong,but I'm getting off topic. Let's get back to the story.

"Oh and dont forget to at least give mum a hug goodbye."

"Ok, then ." she drawled, eye-rolled in mock defeat.

Elizabeth crept into our mum's room and hugged her for the last time. She came out of her room, grabbed her tote bag, slung it on her shoulder and went out the door.

"SLAMM"the last sound I would ever her from her sharp and final.