My mother's name was Apple, and she looked like one, too, with a round flushing face that would fit perfectly in your cupped hands. She had a mole dotted just above her pouting lips, and a scatter of freckles all around." She was pixie-small, with a fetchingly crescent waist and jutting collar bones. Her hair was like shiny, molten lava, pouring over her shoulders and reaching her mid-thigh. Her skin was pale and silken, contrasting the whimsical pop! of green in her opalescent eyes. Her skin was also a warm beige that glowed under the merciless sun and backdropped all the layers of gold she had dangling from her arms. Her eyes were feline and utterly luminous as if they had projected their ray beams. She was in her early 40's but looked younger.
My mum had me and my brother when she was barely nineteen. Dexton is 10 minutes older, dark-skinned, and 6ft tall while I on the other hand was a short, light-skinned, 5'5ft glass of wine.
Growing up, I often found myself in the shadow of my older brother, Dexton. With his dark skin and towering height, he seemed to effortlessly command attention wherever he went. People were drawn to his charisma and charm, and he quickly became the shining star of the family.
Meanwhile, I, with my lighter complexion and shorter stature, often felt like the overlooked sibling. It seemed like Dexton always had things go his way, effortlessly excelling in school and effortlessly winning the hearts of those around him. Sometimes, I couldn't help but wonder if I was adopted, as our experiences and treatment from our mom were so vastly different.
Dexton was undeniably our mum's favorite. Their bond was unbreakable, and it sometimes felt like I was on the outskirts, looking in. I yearned for the same closeness, that same feeling of being cherished. But instead, I often felt like the forgotten one, trying to find my place in the world.
However, as time went on, I realized that my worth wasn't defined by the love and attention I received from others. It was about discovering my strengths, embracing my uniqueness, and finding my path in life. While Dexton may have been the star of the family, I had my light to shine.
I began to focus on my passions, exploring my creativity and nurturing my talents. I discovered that I had a knack for writing, and I poured my heart and soul into it. Through my words, I found solace and a sense of identity. Slowly but surely, I started to gain confidence in myself.
As I grew older, I realized that my mum's favoritism wasn't a reflection of my worth, but rather her own biases and perceptions. I learned to accept that our relationship would always be different and that was okay. I didn't need her validation to know my value.
The clock struck midnight, its chime echoing through the hushed corridors of the old manor where I lay down. I couldn't help but think of what I had picked up from my mum's room a few days back, wondering what secrets it held. Could it lead me to the killer or at least give me a hint of who it could be?
Curiosity and a sense of anticipation filled me as I plugged the flash drive I had found in my mother's room into my computer. I held my breath as I clicked on a folder on the flash drive labeled "SKIP" What secrets could it hold? What truths await me?
As the files loaded, a mixture of excitement and nervousness coursed through my veins. The screen displayed a series of documents, photographs, and videos. Each piece of information was like a puzzle piece, waiting to be put together to form the complete picture of my mother's life and the circumstances surrounding her death. I started with the documents, meticulously reading through letters, journals, and notes. They revealed a side of my mother I had never seen before-- There was a display of a woman driven by a deep sense of justice and a desire to uncover the truth. What truth? I got curious. She had been working on something, but what? And why was it so important?
The photographs offered glimpses into her world, capturing moments of love, and a life once lived.
But some pictures raised more questions than answers. Cryptic images, hidden symbols, and mysterious locations.
As I delved deeper into the files, I realized that my mother had left behind a trail of breadcrumbs, guiding me toward the truth. Everything felt connected. It was as if she knew that one day, I would come looking for answers. The flash drive became my compass leading me down a path of discovery and revelation. There was a part of me that felt this could lead me to something, then the other part wasn't so sure if I was on the right path. I knew I needed help but involving Detective Jake did not feel like a good idea yet. Kevin, on the other hand, was a better option. I picked up my phone and texted him.
"Hey kev, wanna hang? I need your help on something really important. Can we see later?. hoping he replies, I continued going through the series of documents on the flash drive.
Then, I clicked a video file. The screen flickered to life, revealing my mother's face-- a mix of determination and vulnerability. She spoke about her work, the dangers she faced, and her unwavering determination to seek justice. It was a powerful testament to her strength and resilience. I smiled as I saw my beautiful mother. Hearing her voice again made me revisit the times she always sat me down and advised me to do better, to be better. A few minutes into the video, I noticed her countenance changed, she fearfully brought down the camera from her face, and in the process the side view of a man showed and the video ended. I watched over and over again and realized the man I saw looked so familiar. It was difficult to tell but after a few reviews, I realized it was my Dad. Why was my dad in the video? Does he have a hand in this??