My Sister's Death, was the Death of Me *NO LONGER BEING UPDATED*

Prologue

I looked down at her skinny, pale face. Her usually flowing strawberry blonde hair, seemed to have lost it's bounce. She wore her favorite dress, a short, strapless black dress. Along with her gold locket I had given to her on our sixteenth birthday. I gently picked it up, and flipped it open. On the right, there was a picture of me, and on the left, a picture of her. A tear slowly made it's way down my cheek. I closed it, and laid it on her chest.

They did a good job at hiding the bruises that had formed from the fall that killed her. However, I could still see the outline of the big scar that went through her right eye, and cut through her lips. I traced it with my finger tips, as I felt her cold skin.

I turned around, to see rows and rows of disgusted faces looking at me. Even my family secretly despised me. I sat down in a chair between my mother and father, both whom were looking away, and not even comforting me.

Everyone sat there, mourning the death of my sister, until the priest came up, saying some kind words.

"Now, Maria Wylkins would like to say some words of good-bye," he announced, gesturing towards me. I slowly walked up the stairs, and onto the podium. As I did this, I saw the priest walk a few steps away from me. Great. Even the priest hates me, I thought. That definitely means I'm going to hell.

I organized the papers in my hands that had my speech written on them. I lowered the microphone to my height, and read from the paper, "Amanda Wylkins, my twin sister, was my best friend. Someone I could always go to when I had problems. I loved her, and I always will-" I heard a snort come from the crowd of people, interrupting me.

"That's it!" I yelled, angrily. "I've had enough! I don't deserve to be treated like this! I mean, my own sister was killed! Which leaves me to say, I did not kill her!" Gasps came from all around.

"I can't do this," I muttered, as I ran down from the little stage. I tried to leave the room, but two masculine men grabbed me by the arms, and dragged me away, into a broom closet. I heard the familiar sound of a key locking a door. I started to cry, not knowing what I did to deserve this. Suddenly, I heard muffled talking. I leaned my right ear against the door.

The funeral had continued, as if I didn't even exist.

*************************

So, over the past month, I had a trial, and apparently the jury was convinced I was guilty of murdering my sister. I must admit, it did seem as though I did, but even though I had my side of the story, no one cared. Everyone thinks I killed my sister. Everyone.

Luckily, the judge somehow felt bad for me, and was able to have me go to an asylum instead of jail. He also allowed me one wish before I left. Nothing too big, like become rich or something. I didn't want any of that. I wanted to go to where my sister's life ended. The Bermuda island in the Caribbean.

At first, the authorities were a bit skeptical, thinking I had some devious plan, but they eventually gave in, under one condition: as long as I was followed by two security men wherever I went. I didn't really care; I wasn't going to do anything horrid.

The whole thing of me leaving made its way to the papers, which caused reporters to watch me leave on the private helicopter I would be traveling on. Special, huh? Besides the fact that they strapped my arms and legs to the seat, so I wouldn't do anything bad. Let's just say, my butt hurt a lot after the trip.

I demanded to be taken to the cliff that she fell off of, right after we got off the helicopter. They hesitantly agreed, and took me there immediately.

Now, I'm looking over the sea at a lovely sunset, while sitting on the edge of the cliff. That might not be very safe, but I tried not to think about it. You're probably wondering why I'm here, since my sister died here. It's just I feel as though there's some magnetic force that wants me to be there.

I slowly pulled out a pen and paper that I had secretly snuck onto the helicopter. The two men were too busy telling each other jokes and punching each other in the arm to notice me. I decided if no one was going to listen to me, I was going to write it.

And, I was going to start at the very beginning. The whole reason why I was in this mess. The reason why I was here right now.

The reason why my sister died.