Burning Revenge

4

I woke up abruptly, thanks to the officer opposite me. He had shaken my sholder. "Hm?" I asked him, stiffling a yawn.

"I'm afraid I have to ask you and your sister to come with me to the inspector. He wants to talk to you."

I looked down at Jemma, who now looked wide awake again, and realized we had fallen asleep on the ambulance bed. "C'mon then, Jem," I said quietly, holding my hand towards her to take. She took it after rubbing her eyes, and together we climbed out of the ambulance and followed the officer, who had turned and steered into the direction of our garden.

The fire had been stopped, and the only people left were the ones examining the house. Looking for clues to base a theory on.

A man, middle-aged (perhaps in his 40s) with brown, curly hair with little grey streaks in it was standing in the middle of the garden. He had his back to us and I could see he had his arms clamped behind his back, while he examined the ashes that used to be our house closely.

"Sir?" the officer called out, " here they are." I wasn't quite sure but it sounded a lot like this officer was extremely nervous around this man, who probably was the inspector. He turned, and I gasped as his icy blue, nearly white eyes narrow at me. He smiled half heartedly and waved the officer off.

He stepped closer into the light of our garden lamp, making him look ghost-like and eery. It was nearly dawn, I could already see the sun setting behind the woods that bordered our garden, but it was still extremely dark. "Olivia and Jemma Firestone. My name is inspector Black. I will be in charge of this inestigaton." His voice was very low and buisness-like, almost emotionless. He was waring a black cloak with its colars up. Sherlock Holmes has come to life, I thought warily, watching him cautiously. He carried on, "I am sure that you have besn informed that this was no accident. But attempted murder. And THAT - " he pointed at the ashes of our house and all we had known, "- this, was all planned." His voice became a little softer and he looked sincere. "I promise you I will find the person responsible." He looked at us both, cocking his hed to the side and murmering "If you want I could even make sure he doesn't get a fair trial. Of course there are no death penalties here in the U.K. but.. I can promise you a life long."

I murmered a thank you and Jemma tightened her grip around my hand. "Why exactly did you call us here, Inspector Black?" I asked pulling Jemma to my side.

His eyes focused on me and turned into something I thought a person like him wasn't capable of. It was almost... pittying. Oh no. This can't be good, I thought my stomach turning.

"I'm sorry to be the one to have to tell you this," he frowned and stepped closer, "you've been through enough allready but... better now than later."

Oh god. This doesn't sound good at all. I held Jemma even tighter.

"We've found your parents," he continued quietly, "they've had a terrible car accident."

I felt my heart beat faster and I choked. "Where are they? Can I see them?"

"Olivia - "

"NO, just tell me which hospital and I'll - "

"Olivia," Inspector Black said sternly,"I'm afraid they didn't make it."

It was silent for a long while before I spoke, my voice rough and breaking. "Dead?"

When Inspector Black nodded I felt my whole body go numb. I didn't feel Jemma's hand in mine anymore, or the grass at my feet, or the wind blowing through my hair. All I felt was pain. Dispair. Guilt. My heart felt torn.

My body felt heavy and tierd. It was as if tons of stones had fallen onto my sholders. They can't be dead. They can't be!

"I'm sorry for your loss," Inspector Black murmered, but I didn't hear him.

I felt my body tremble, and all of a sudden my knees gave up. When I crumbled to the ground, I didn't even care that my leg had started bleeding again. Tears filled my eyes and I gasped for air. My vision blurred as I let the tears fall. "No," I breathed.

Jemma was still clutching my hand tightly. She started crying aswell, her big, brown eyes staring up at me. I knew she didn't quite understand. She was five. She hardly knew our parents. The only reason she was crying was because I was.

I wrapped my arms around her and held her close. "It's okay, Jem. We'll be allright." My voice didn't sound half as much as convinced as I wanted it to, but I couldn't change that. Sometimes even the strongest of people have weak moments. Mum had said that to me on the day that my Grandpa had died. I had refused to cry because I didn't want my cousins to think I was weak. But when Mum had held my sholders and looked at me lovingly with those dark blue eyes, I had felt the tear roll down my cheak. In a way, you could say that my Mum taught me how to cry. And right now, I was going to cry it all out. Because after this moment, I'd have to be strong. For Jemma.

We were led to one of the ambulances again, where I crawled onto the bed with Jemma. She had stopped crying and jad fallen asleep, her head on my arm. I quietly sobbed into my pillow, soaking the  bed with my tears, while I hoped this was all just a bad dream.

When my eyes closed, I could still feel the wet on my cheaks and I could still hear the buisy police buzz outside the ambulance.

After another few minutes of listening to Jemma's heartbeat, I felt myself being pulled into a deep, dark sleep.