It’s all before my time, but I feel the pain. It’s beyond my reach but the emotions slither down my spine. It’s all a mystery yet I search for the answers.

Was it a nine maybe? The answers aren’t clear as they once were. I wouldn’t even have to look, they’ll find me. Can I peek at the police files? Twenty five years later can I make my own conclusion?

Stories that don’t match, details not so sensory, will we ever know the truth? A question my dear twin battles with behind the loss of her first.

Lost in the mystery of a television show something sticks out to me. Can these fictitious stories be a message from YOU? Is it destiny? Was I meant to see similar cases at this exact moment? Is that how my dad felt? Did it happen that sudden? Does he feel remorse?

I guess we’ll see when the shoes on the other foot; staring down the barrel wondering “a nine maybe”. I know that’s just the anger in me but what if it’s the way our story play out? What if I was meant to heal others but teach him a lesson? Am I the vessel?

Dealings of a fatherless child, we’re only nine days in and all I can think is “was it a nine? Maybe” in the mist of thinking of nine ways to get this business off the ground. I’m writing for those of you who can relate first and those who are quick to judge second. You will never fully understand and neither will I.

It’s all before my time, but I feel the pain. It’s beyond my reach but the emotions slither down my spine. It’s all a mystery yet I search for the answers.

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