My Dead Family

I was working at home when I heard screaming. 1, 2, 3, 4 bloodcurdling screams. I called the police, told them my address, and ran upstairs to what was wrong. Just in case, I had my revolver with me. I saw my brother Sam, dead, with knife wounds, sisters and mother with smashed skulls. I ran downstairs to have found a man in my kitchen looking through my food. "Hey!" I yelled. He drew his pistol. I had my hands up. "You're the one i didn't kill, huh?" I herd the door open. Hard. "Put your hands in the air!" Five cops lined up in the house. Instead of putting his arms up, he jumped out the window. They didn't catch up to him. So, they moved their guns to me. "Were you in on this?" one of them questioned.

"N-n--" I didn't get to finish. "Don't lie to me!" he said. "I don't have anything to do with--well yes I do, but he broke into my house." I yelled. "Anyone else in this house?" "Y-yeah." I stuttered. "Mom, Sam, Justine, and Brianna."

It was March 13, 1947 that my family was murdered.

"Well, we'll try to find the murderer. He had an automobile, we got his plates. HU-478." the cop chuckled. "That was my fathers plate number when he went missing in 1942, when I was 17."