Prologue

I remember it. I remember it so vividly, like it was yesterday, when it truly happened many years ago.

One June afternoon my sister Skylar, who was 15 at the time, walked me to my friend's house for his eleventh birthday party. His parties were always the best because his mother Mrs. Wallach was a baker, and she'd bake her son the best cakes. Velvet, vanilla, chocolate. Name it and she could do it. Back then I was eleven and my parents didn't want me walking alone, so every time I'd want to go somewhere I'd have to ask Sky to come along. It always annoyed me, how I could never go anywhere without her.

But now I wish I could have my sister by my side, to walk every step and every street and every corner I turn. Maybe my parents were right. You can't walk alone in New York.

That afternoon was the best time I'd had in a while and the last I'd have for many years. My sister was supposed to pick me up at 8 o'clock that night. I didn't really care when I looked at the clock in the Wallach's living room and saw that Sky was late, it meant I had more time to play. Minutes past and minutes turned into hours, and at 11 o'clock I was still up and having fun, when the phone rang.

From the kitchen we could hear a series of 'no's' and a few minutes later Mrs. Wallach told us that we were having a sleepover. My buddy Mike Wallach and I were thrilled, we barely ever did this.

But, then after it had been three nights I hadn't gone home, I began to realize that something had to be terribly wrong. I told Mrs. Wallach this on the fourth morning. That's when she told me that my sister hadn't come home after dropping me off. I felt numb as I ran through a list of possibilities in my mind. Some were not that bad but, most were horrifying.

The next day I went back home. My parents were crying while talking to the police officer they'd found something. Something that belonged to Sky. Her silver necklace with her initials, S.W. engraved in it.

Weeks had passed and still no word from her. One morning in July the chief police called home. Some kids, who were playing behind the old theater the day before had found her. Except it wasn't her. It was her body, but she was gone. She'd been stabbed in the chest. All color had drained from her lifeless, soulless, body.

At her memorial, when I went to say goodbye, kneeling beside her coffin, resting my hand on hers, I realized that after lowering her in the ground, no one would ever see her again. I wouldn't see her again. No one would ever hear her laugh, see her sky blue eyes, touch her soft hands. No one would ever know someone who was as kind and patient and funny and beautiful. My sister was gone. Gone forever.

That night I remember lying in bed wondering if she was in heaven. Had she seen me look for her? Had she heard the prayers I said or read the letters I wrote for her in my journal?

For the next week and months that followed, people kept treating me differently. Like I was fragile. I was the dead girl's brother. My parents overwhelmed with grief would almost cry every time I walked into the room. It was like I was some shadow of her. They would see me but see her also too.

My sister's full name was Skylar Abbigail Winston; she was 15 years old when she was murdered on June 8th 1960.


A/n: Hello I am back after almost a year, with something new and weird. :) My Fanfiction account's first anniversary was on May 3rd 2014!

Anyways this is the prologue. Don't hesitate to review! I would be honored and proud and really happy if you did. Also,... I can't remember... Oh yeah! This might not be the best story you ever read, my writing style is a bit weird and I tend to either make things happen super fast or supper slow, so if there's anything send my a PM or a review.

This story will mostly focus on Dallas' life after his sister, Skylar dies. How his family delt and how everything became what it is. This story is a long shot, it might not work out I'm just warning you. It might seem bizarre.

Sorry for the long author's note. BTW I'm so glad to talk to y'all again. Enjoy! :)