When we arrive, his house looks as normal as always. But it is not normal, it will never ever be normal again. Thomas is gone.

I ring and his mother opens the door. She seems fragile, her blonde hair a completely mess - even worse than mine -, her blue eyes empty, her thin body involved in a black silk robe that makes her seem even weaker. But when she looks at me, her eyes regain some light, a light feed by anger.

"What are you doing here?" She asks, her voice full of hatred. I want to hate her, to feel enraged because of her behavior but I can't. She lost her son, a part of her life and she needs someone to blame. If I am her choice I'll accept it, I'll accept it as long as it makes her feel better.

"I'm here to see Alyssa." I answer, biting my tongue to prevent myself from completing the sentence. Your daughter, a daughter you refuse to understand.

"You'll not get closer to my daughter!" She yells and her sudden emotion makes me step back surprised. "You'll not get closer to the only child I still have and take her away too. I'll not let you take away Alyssa as you did with Thomas!"

"It was not my fault!" I yell back, feeling the tears that want to fall.

"You'll not ruin my family even more!" She answers, her voice firm, her eyes shinning with craziness and pain. She's consumed by the pain.

"Helen," a soft voice says and Thomas' father appears, placing an arm around his wife waist, "let Layla come inside. Alyssa needs someone with her."

  "She destroyed our family, Richard!" She says, staring at her husband's eyes, "She killed Thomas!"

  The pain in his eyes is evident when he lower his head and makes his wife get closer, holding her in a tightly hug. "Let Layla come inside," he repeats, "you know it was not her fault."

  She looks at me, tears shinning in her eyes, tears of pain and sadness but nothing more. The anger is gone. "Go." She whispers to me.

  And I enter, letting all of them in the entrance, my mother, his father and his mother, feeling their gazes on my back. I look behind when I arrive at the staircase, to see my mother pulling both into a hug and letting them cry while she whispers words I can't hear. It always astonished me how they could be friends and opponents at the same time, fighting to steal the other best business opportunities.

  My mother looks at me, still hugging them and mouthed, "Love you, my Layla." I nod and start climbing the stairs.

  I open Layla's room door, slightly hesitating before do so but she's not here, the room is empty, the bed made as if no one had slept there. I close the door again, already knowing where I'll find her.

  I stop when I am finally in front of his bedroom door. I entered in this bedroom with him so many times, just the two of us, to be alone, to study, to talk. Sometimes we just looked outside the window, saying nothing, just watching the street, and then one of us would start talking and we would talk during hours about serious things, frivolous things, funny things. Just talking.

  I want with all my heart to see him when I open this door. To see him near the window, looking at the outside waiting for me. To see him turning around to face me when he listens to the door open and opening his arms to welcome me into a hug because I am needing one right now. But it will not happen. I'll not see him when I open this door, he'll not be here, waiting for me. Never again.

  But Alyssa will. And Alyssa needs someone. I open to the door, trying to do not make noise to do not scare her. But I didn't need to worry. She's sleeping near the window, her head against the cold glass. She came here yesterday again to wait for her brother that she believes that will come back to her.

  I feel my heart shattering while I come closer and pick her up and lead her to his bed. I place her here and put the blankets over her and then start stepping back. But she grabs my arm, her eyes still closed, her respiration still calm. She's still asleep.

  She pulls me to her and I let her, afraid that if I try to free myself she may wake up. I lie down near her, making sure I am not touching her, reminding that Thomas told me once she didn't like people touching her.

  She relaxes when I lie down, making me confused. Why would it make difference to her?

  "Thomas," she mumble and I understand. I once saw them like that, lying on the bed together and he refused to get up when I entered, telling me his sister would feel the difference. And she would because Thomas' weight would disappear from the mattress.

  Without me lying down here, she would be the only weight over the mattress, it would be different. If we are both here, for her it would be as if Thomas was here with her.

§§§

I've been here just looking at Alyssa who's asleep for two hours now. Well, not exactly. I texted my mother telling her I was okay and texted Diane asking her to appear in my house tonight if she wants and then turned off the phone again.

Alyssa is so similar to her brother, the same pale skin, the same long eyelashes that right now are hiding a pair of beautiful blue eyes, the same dark hair. She's a female version of Thomas. My Thomas.

  She moves and I stop looking at her. She doesn't like people looking at her, or at least it was what Thomas told me. She keeps moving while she wakes up, stretching and yawning.

  "Where's Thomas?" She sweetly asks but I can listen to the confusion and worry in her voice. I am not the one that should be here, Thomas is the one she wants.

  "He is... busy. He can't come to you right now." Her breathe becomes heavily and her eyes open, making me add, "but he'll come as soon as possible. Do you mind if we wait together? We can do whatever you want."

  "I want to see the stars." She says and I narrow my eyes, trying to understand. There's no stars right now. How can I show her something that's not visible?

  "Where are they?"

  She doesn't answer, she just stares at her hands, awaiting for something she believes I should know. And now? I don't know what to do, how will I find something that's not here!

  "I want to see the stars." She repeats, her big blue eyes meeting mine for a brief moment before she looks at her hands again. A brief moment that's enough for me to understand what it meant. She wants to know why I didn't show them to her yet. But how can I if there are no stars right now?

  "I don't know where they are," I tell her, not really waiting an answer. But she does answer. She points at the ceiling and I feel stupid for a moment. Of course! The stars Thomas placed in the ceiling! But isn't she seeing them already?

  Think, Layla, think! What does she want? I analyze her face but it gives me no answer, it only makes me feel more stressed as it makes me realize her fingers that are starting to play with the hem of her T-shirt.

  Of course! I am the stupidest girl, really! I close the door and draw the curtains preventing the light from coming inside the room. But instead of darkness, there's light, a dim, almost invisible light. Coming from the stars in the ceiling, stars that in the middle of this darkness are almost credible. With some imagination we can imagine that we are seeing the sky.

  Alyssa lies on the floor, her eyes shinning with happiness, her expression showing the pure joy she's feeling, while she stares at the ceiling, observing the fake starts.

  "They look like my stars but they are not. My stars have a bright, a beauty that anything made by humans will ever have. My stars are natural." She says, her gaze fixed in the ceiling, "But when we can't see the real stars we should be happy with the fake ones."

  "Just because we can't see the others, Alyssa. Tonight, you can see the real ones again and then you'll not need to look at the fake ones."

  Her piercing eyes meet mine suddenly, the fiercely visible in them surprising me. "It shouldn't be like that. We should have the right of seeing always the real things. Because they are infinitely more beautiful than an imperfect copy."

  And for a moment I hesitate, not knowing if she's still talking about the stars or if she is talking about me, trying to replace her brother, trying to become an imperfect copy of him. But then she stares at the ceiling again, peaceful as if she hadn't said anything, just observing the fake stars, her eyes slightly narrowed and I realize she was always talking about them.

  I lie down near her, knowing that even if she's talking about stars I am not, "Sometimes a copy is everything we can have."

  But she ignores me, pointing at a pattern made by the stars. "Replication of Ursa Major, a constellation with seven main stars, also known as The Great Bear."

  I can't help but feel surprised and wonder how much time Thomas wasted with that, creating in the ceiling of his bedroom a replica of the sky.

  But she doesn't even give me time to say anything. She points at other pattern, telling me its name and some random facts about it before choose another one. I let her voice, seduce me, not even listening to what she's saying, but just focusing in the calm, constant tone. Wondering how many times she did the same thing with Thomas, how many times Thomas gave up from his sleep to be with her, looking at the sky or at the ceiling, studying the stars just to make his sister happy.
 
  Being here, learning about a part of his life that not even I knew well, a part of his life that he exclusively dedicated to his sister, makes me feel closer to him, makes me feel as if he was here even if he isn't.

  And then a knock at the door brings me back to the reality at the same time that Alyssa shuts up, her eyes wide open.

  "Mom doesn't like when I talk about the stars," she says. I slightly nod, opening the curtains to let the light invade the room again before opening the door.

  "It's better if you go, Layla," Thomas' father says, "the police came here and informed us that they believe that it was suicide. Helen is blaming you."

  I feel the colour draining from my face as his words start making sense terribly slowly. Suicide. The police says it was suicide.

  "But... The pills, he took them! I know he did, he was nervous!"

  "The pills would make him have a deeper sleep but not necessarily make him sleep. He could have taken them and then killed himself."

  "He didn't! Mr. Hale, you need to make them change their mind. He wouldn't kill himself, he had a life to live, people to be with."

  He touches my arm, squeezing it slightly, in a gesture of comfort. "He always had problems, Layla. He had too many things upon him. The school, the futbool, his future," he makes a pause, mentioning Alyssa with his head, "she. He was nervous, on the verge of a nervous breakdown. You were his connection with the normality, someone with the same pressure, a friend. And then you..."

  He also blames me. I shake his hand off of my arm. He also thinks it was my fault.

  "Layla, I am not saying..."

  "You don't need to say anything," I interrupt, my voice trembling because of the rage I am feeling, "Thomas is my best friend, is like a brother to me. I would never hurt him, I did nothing to hurt him. I didn't even tell him no! I asked time and yesterday I was going to tell him yes." I bite my lip, fighting the tears that want to escape. "I didn't know he had problems, I admit. But he was patient. If nothing else, he was patient. He would have waited for my answer."

  I push him away so I can get out but then I feel a cold hand around my wrist. I look back to meet Alyssa's tormented, clueless eyes, so similar to Thomas' ones.

  "Will you come back, right? You said we would wait together."

  I take a deep breath to control myself, to control my voice and keep it low so I don't scare here. "Of course, I'll be back. I made a promise, right? Now I need to keep it."

  She nods, happy with my answer, and frees me but her eyes keep focused on me. I start getting out, telling myself that it's not fair to say that, that I have no right to open my mouth again.

  But the thought of him believing it was my fault makes the rage take the control. I turn back to face his father, a man that always treated me as his own daughter but refuses to acknowledge the problem his real daughter has, one last time before I get out, "If you think that Thomas would go leaving her with people that refuse to try to understand her you're wrong. He would rather has a nervous breakdown than leave her behind with you."

  I turn around and run down the stairs, refusing to see his expression, how much my words hurt - or didn't hurt - him. Through the slightly open door of the living room I can see his mother, supported by the arms of his uncle, crying and screaming uncontrollably, trying to escape from Thomas' uncle embrace, fruitless.

   In the middle of such anger and tears she doesn't see me but his uncle does, his cold eyes meeting mine, his emotionless expression scaring me as always. He was always like that, every single time I saw him. Not even the glimpse of the most simple emotion, the glimpse of humanity. He seems to be made out of stone. But while he looks at me something in my expression makes the lines of his face soften and the mask slides, letting him show an expression similar to pain just for a seconds before the indifference returns.

  "Go," he mimics with his lips.

  And I go. I leave Thomas' house, this house consumed by the pain of a death that will never be avenged.

  Thomas was killed. I do not know anything else but I am sure of it. He was killed. Someone chose to take him away from me, from his sister, from his life.

  The police will do nothing, suicide they said. But I'll find answers. I'll find proofs. And I'll find the assassin.

  And I already know the first and the last step.

  The first step is discover how did they misunderstanding an assassination with a suicide.

  The last step is put the assassin in the jail forever. Because someone that chose to take my Thomas away from me deserves nothing more than be in the jail forever.