It's been 47 days since this was last updated...Wow...

I'm going to skip review replies since it's been so long, but thank you to; ZeDancingHobbit, DizzyRedhead, Mozzi-Girl, and Crimson Endings for the amazing reviews! :D

Also, another Thank You to Mozzi-Girl and Crimson Endings for reviewing the final chapter of Fable of Death. I really appreciate it. :D

So, I stayed up until 1 this morning to write a good chunk of the story, and I took about twenty minutes today to finish the chapter, so we can move on.

I'll probably finish this story before I post another.

Anyways; thank you to everyone who still remains strong to this story! You're all frikkin amazing! :D

Now...If you'll excuse me...I'm going to go make snow angels. :3

Please enjoy!

Keith and I rushed into the kitchen where several technicians and cops chatted nervously. Some of the officers ran out of the house, as more entered. One was guiding a woman in a wheelchair inside the house and took her to a separate room for questioning.

"What's going on?" I asked and one of the technician's, a young Marshal Islander with curly black hair running down her back, shook her head.

"Dang it!" she exclaimed and the others faced her. "Whoever killed Alaina knew what they were doing; they took out our cameras."

"But...Only we knew where the cameras were," Captain McNeill stated and scratched his chin. "So we have no film, whatsoever."

"No," the technician sighed.

"But we do have Alaina's mother," an officer replied and Keith groaned.

"What's wrong?" I asked and he shook his head.

"That lady's crazy," he informed. "Do we have to question her?"

"Yeah," the officer replied, "because she was the one who saw the killer."

"For all we know, it could've been her reflection," Keith mumbled and I delivered a swift kick to the shin. He gasped in pain and gripped the edge of the table.

"Don't be a jerk," I muttered and grabbed him by the tie and dragged him to the secluded room where Alaina's mother was.

She was greying, but didn't look amazingly old. In fact, she looked young. Light wrinkles were etched across her ivory skin. Her dark, black hair trailed down her back, and covered the back of her wheelchair. Glasses were perched crookedly on top of her rather small nose. As one officer conversed, trying to get some answers out of her, she went in and out of consciousness. Occasionally, she would smack the officer and scold him for being so loud. Keith gave me a look that read, Are you sure? She's INSANE!

I rolled my eyes and tapped the officer's shoulder. He looked up at me and sighed in relief. "Thank goodness," he sighed, jumping to her feet. He leaned down to my height and whispered. "This one is definitely loco, ma'am. I would watch out for her, if I were you." With that said, the officer left and I walked over a chair set in front of the woman. She had fallen into another round of sleep.

"Hello?" I asked and waved my hand lightly across her eyes.

She sputtered lightly and opened her eyes. And I thought my dad had beautiful, blue eyes. Hers were tinted with purple and green, creating a whirlpool of beauty that destroyed my dad's normal, bright, blue eyes.

"Good morning, Ma'am," I said and Alaina's mom looked at me with a certain look that didn't share distaste...But interest. Whether it was good or bad, I didn't know. "I'm sorry about rudely taking you away from your home."

When she spoke, her voice was light and breezy, yet quiet and still. "Rudely..."

"Yes, Ma'am. It's like we tore you away from your home."

"Tore...Tore..."

Keith began to hum, as if in warning, but I jabbed him in the ribcage. "Are you alright, Ma'am?"

"The man...Who killed my daughter...He tore her apart..."

My jaw dropped slightly. "With...What?"

"Sprinkler head..." Alaina's mom drifted off once more and Keith stepped in.

"Yo," he called and snapped his fingers. The woman jolted back into reality and looked upon Keith before horror mixed with anger spread across her face.

"You..." she muttered and lifted her hand to slap him. I intervened quickly and held the woman's hand down.

"What's wrong?" I asked and the woman scoffed.

"What's wrong...What's wrong?!" She pointed a crooked finger towards Keith. "That man killed my sweet baby!"

"She's insane!" Keith exclaimed. "I was in the kitchen the whole time."

"I saw you, boy!" the woman continued. "I saw you a-sneakin' into my house and going into my baby's room. I heard her screamin' and you laughin'. YOU KILLED ALAINA!"

The woman attempted to lunge from her wheelchair, but I held her down and looked at Keith. I wanted to believe him...But it made sense.

Captain McNeill stated that the cameras were set up in a fashion where only us, the police department, knew about. Keith was quick to accuse Alaina's mother of being wrong...And he was a little mad at Alaina for trying to tell him to come back home, and leave me.

I stood up just as McNeill threw the door open, holding a gun. "I heard yellin'," he said and looked towards Keith. "What's all this about; you killin' Alaina?"

"I didn't," Keith exclaimed quickly. "I promise!" He pointed to me. "Kenna believes me, right?"

I hesitated for a little too long. "Keith..."

"You have to believe me, Kenna! I was downstairs the whole time!"

"But I was upstairs," I exclaimed. "I can't be your alibi!"

"And neither can we," Captain McNeill stated. "You disappeared for quite some time during Alaina's murder."

"Yeah...To the bathroom!" Keith growled and McNeill shook his head.

"Unless we have actual proof of you using the toilet, then you're our number one suspect." He waved towards the other officers and four of them filed in. Two took Keith by the arms and the other two prevented a struggle as they led him out. But they couldn't stop his cries.

"I'm innocent! Kenna! You, of all people, need to believe me."

I looked down, a tidal wave of grief overflowing me. "I want to, Keith," I muttered and Captain McNeill placed on hand on top of my shoulder and squeezed it gently.

"C'mon, Kenna. We should probably start packing your things and get you home."

I didn't refuse his grip, but instead, exit the room. The last thing I heard before he closed the door was the satisfied snore of a sleeping victim's mother.