After ten years with no new leads or clues my family has finally moved on with their lives.
Up until that moment, my mom always had hope that I was alive. Even when Marcy would throw one of her tantrums and tell mom to let me go and that I was dead. Mom still believed.
That was the one thing Dad and Marcy had in common. They wanted to move on as if I never existed.
Perhaps they were right to move on with their lives. But I was right there. I could hear them argue at night. And I would always lay my head in my mother's lap when she would sit in the rocker tucked away in a corner by a lamp and cry with my picture clutched in her hand. She would sit in that spot for hours all alone. No one would even try to comfort her. They treated her the same as me--a ghost.
But, now that they've let me go I can finally move on. My spirit is finally free. I don't care if they ever know my teacher was the one who took my life. When he killed me he destroyed our family. Nothing would ever be the same. Maybe not knowing is a good thing. It may have done more damage than my death alone. In the meantime, I'm free to roam the heavenly clouds on top of that cold cruel world. And I hope, after a long full life, I will see my mother again. Her love for me never expired. #LiteraryJunkie