I pace around my living room, wondering if my brother will come after me. I expected him to be upset with me for testifying against him. I know I should have put my family first, but Wesley was my fiance, and Allen shattered that. When the doorbell rings, I jump a mile before cautiously approaching it. I take a deep breath and look through the peephole, only to see Detective Johnson.

I answer the door, a little relieved, and he strides in, a smile on his face. I let him in and shut the door behind him as I observed him. His black button-up shirt was wrinkled in the back and missing a button, and his jeans have faded from washing. Grey hair peeks out from beneath the jet-black hair.

"Thank you for coming over so quickly, Detective Johnson."

We move into the living room, where he sits, and I bite my lower lip, my heart beating. "So, where is this letter that you said was sent?"

His tone is patronizing. I retrieve it from the end stand, sliding my fingers through the crisp paper.

"Here it is; it arrived after I had gotten my mail, and it has no return address on it or mine, implying that whoever delivered it knew my brother and where I live."

He puts on a glove and inspects it before placing it in an evidence bag.

"I will bring it to the lab and have them see if there are any fingerprints. Until then, I can have a marked unit make rounds every couple hours if that makes you feel better."

I inhale deeply before shaking my head.

"Thank you, Detective Johnson. I would like that it would make me feel a bit more at ease."

He glances up at me, yet his eyes seem to pity me. a look I've grown accustomed to seeing because, after all, my brother murdered my fiance, and everyone stares at me as if my world should be collapsing around me.

which it is, but I don't need others to feel sorry for me. I wake up and go about my business because Wesley would not want my world to come to a halt simply because he is gone. I stand up, shake his hand, and walk him to the front door, where he smiles sympathetically and places his hand on my shoulder.

"It will be okay. Josie, He is in prison; he can not get to you."

I sigh and shake my head in agreement, even though I'm afraid he's mistaken. My brother has his own methods of obtaining what he desires. Because I irritated him, I am now a target. He has every right to be unhappy with me, but coming after me because I am his sister, did he just expect me to roll over and accept that he killed Wesley all because Wesley was going to turn him in to the cops for money laundering, murder, extortion, and so on? For a long time, I was unaware of Allen's actual nature; all I saw was my protective elder brother, who would do everything for me.

I close the door and lean against it. The wood feels cold against my back before sliding down the door and putting my knees to my chest. The heaviness of the day causes tears to sting the back of my eyes and fall on my cheeks. My heart rate is increasing, and the walls seem to be closing in on me. I stand up and take a look around the living room. I feel like it is spinning around me.

The walls are a bright new white, yet you can still smell the fresh paint scent that remains. The golden oak wood flooring is warmed by the sun streaming in through the windows. I walk over to the window, where I can see the city's skyline. I look below as cars and people go about their everyday lives. I wonder whether anyone else feels the same way I do alone, as if the world will just stop moving, but I know I shouldn't since it's not fair to Wesley. I do not know how to feel anymore; my brother will spend his life in prison for all of his crimes, and my fiance is now gone forever.

I'm not sure how long I stand there watching cars and people go by before the sound of my phone calling resonates through the living room, and I shake my head and notice that the sun has begun to set. I sigh before running my hands through my hair. I pick up my phone, and it's Wesley's mom. I smile a little because she calls me every night before bed to make sure I'm okay. I should be asking her that she is the one who lost her only son. I smile as I answer, holding my phone up to my ear.

"Hi, Mrs. Adams. I must have lost track of time with how today was. How are you feeling?"The other end is silent for a moment.

"Josie, can you come over? Something is wrong." I can hear the hesitation in her voice, almost like she has been crying.

"I will be right over, Mrs. Adams; are you okay?"

"Just hurry, Josie." The line goes dead, I look at my phone, and something doesn't feel right. I walk inside my bedroom, which is still packed with boxes, and look at my clothes. I am still in my court clothes. Before calling Detective Johnson again, I grab a pair of jeans and one of Wesley's old college t-shirts.

"Yes, Josie. How can I help you?"He sounds annoyed by my phone call. I take a deep breath.

"Wesley's mom called me, asking me to go over there, but something does not feel right. Could you maybe send someone over and do a wellness check?" I can hear him sigh, and I bite my lip before getting annoyed.

"Sorry, never mind, it is getting late. I will just go over goodbye!"

I hang up, putting my phone in my pocket, before hailing a cab to her place. The entire ride, I feel like I'm going to puke up at any moment. I close my eyes for a moment, and when I open them again, we're in her neighborhood-all the beautiful houses we pass that have loving, happy families in them-and then we get to hers, which looks run-down. Wesley and I used to come over on weekends, have family dinners, and help her with the yard, but since Wesley's death, I haven't been able to visit her. I pay the driver and glance at the house, my heart beating fast.

I knock on the door, waiting there because there is only one light in the living room, providing a glow on the porch. This nagging feeling in my gut isn't going away. I let go of a breath I didn't realize I was holding in as she opened the door and pulled me into her arms, hugging her tightly.

"I was worried about you; you sounded scared on the phone."