When I finally made it home, I found the house silent. I breathed a sigh of relief. The silence meant that neither my father nor Rosemary were home yet, and that meant all I had to do was convince Becca not to rat me out for being late.

I flipped on the kitchen light and called, "Becca! I'm sorry I'm late." I began searching the house for her. I expected to find her napping on the couch; we usually would do that whenever we were sick. To my surprise, she wasn't on the couch, or even in the living room.

I made my way back to our room. "Becca are you sleeping?" I asked as I pushed the door open. Once again I was surprised to not find Becca. Her diary lay on her bed which she had made up perfectly. In fact, she had cleaned our entire bedroom, with the exception of my unmade bed. I shook my head. The girl was sick all day, and yet she bothered to clean. I didn't understand her. When I would be sick, I would stay in bed all day and do nothing.

I finally found a trace of Becca as I headed back to the kitchen. The bathroom door was shut and I saw the light was on from under the door. "Becca," I said loudly to the bathroom door, "I'm gonna start something for dinner. Do you want anything?" I waited and received only silence. I figured the silence meant that she was angry with me for deserting her this afternoon. "Look, I'm sorry I'm late. But I got detention. What could I do? I'd really like it if you didn't tell Dad," I attempted to explain and win her over.

I went back to the kitchen and opened the fridge. Becca wouldn't stay mad long. She was too sweet. I rummaged through the refrigerator, but was unable to find anything to turn into a decent meal. There was some wilted lettuce, some moldy cheese, a couple eggs, and several bottles of beer.

Groaning, I shut the fridge. "Becca, what should I make?" I yelled in the direction of the bathroom. I was starting to get angry because of her anger. I stormed over to the bathroom and knocked. "Open the door and talk to me!" The door didn't open and I received nothing but silence from the other side.

I narrowed my eyes. "That's it, I'm coming in," I warned her just in case she was naked or something. I turned the knob and entered the room.

Words can hardly describe the waves of horror that washed over me as I entered the bathroom. My knees buckled and I had to grab the door to support me. I couldn't breathe and the world was starting to go dark.

I allowed my knees to buckle and I collapsed on the floor in a heap.  My baby sister lay on the floor before me surrounded by a puddle of blood.  "Becca," I tentatively whispered crawling towards her. I didn't care that I was crawling through blood; I was concerned only with the welfare of my sister. "Becca," croaked out again, "are you okay?"

Up close the sight was even more horrendous. Her skin was deathly pale and her lips were tinted an eerie blue color. Her brown eyes stared lifelessly at the ceiling and there was a bullet hole at the base of her neck.  I felt tears flowing down my face, but I didn't care. I clutched at her body, giving her one last hug.  My sister was dead; somebody had shot and killed her.

I released Becca, and began to panic.  I wasn't sure what to do. Sobs shook my body as I tried my hardest to think. I forced myself to stand up. Ignoring the blood that was all over my knees and hands I ran to the telephone. I needed to call the police, an ambulance, my father, anybody.  I just didn't know how to deal with this on my own.

I picked up the phone, but there was no dial tone. "FUCK!" I yelled, "Why the hell can't they ever pay the goddamn bills?" I had never felt such emotions stream through me as I did at the moment. I was frightened, angry, panicked, horrified, and traumatized all at once. I grabbed a glass of water that was sitting half-full next to the phone and as hard as I could, I threw it against the wall.

I don't know why I did that. Perhaps I was hoping the loud crash of shattering glass would wake me up from what I hoped was a horrible nightmare, or maybe I just had no other way of venting all the emotions I was feeling. I stared around me, knowing I had to take some sort of action. So I did the only thing I could think off: I ran.

I wasn't aware of where I was running; I was merely running.  As I ran, horrible thoughts ran through my head. All I could think was that I had killed my sister, that I had dressed like a tramp, and because of that, I wasn't there to protect her. I may as well have pulled the trigger myself.

As this realization hit me, I couldn't run any more. I just stopped dead in my tracks and collapsed in the middle of the street.  I didn't cry as I sat there in the middle of the road.  I just sat there silently in shock, covered in my sister's blood.  I couldn't function anymore, so I sat.

I have no idea how long I sat there in the street. All I know is I would probably would have sat there for an indefinite amount of time, if somebody hadn't come along. "Kim?" Two Bit's voice called from behind me. "What the hell are you doing?"

I slowly arose to my feet and turned around.  Two Bit's face quickly morphed from his usual lopsided grin to a horrified expression I had never seen on his face before. "Jesus Christ!" he exclaimed, "Is—is that blood?"

I looked down at myself, and I understood Two Bit's horrified face. I looked as if I had, well, like I had killed somebody. I looked up at Two Bit with tears in my eyes. "Two Bit," I croaked out. "I need help." My whole body was shaking, and I'm sure I would have collapsed if Two Bit hadn't stepped forward and supported my body with a hug.  I buried my face in his chest, but still I couldn't let the sobs take over.

A/N: I have a few excuses to offer. All I can say is I blame Harry Potter, lightening striking the house twice, a busy semester, and the death of a close friend for my lack of updates. But please review and I solemnly swear I will update much, much quicker.