Guilty till proven innocent. That's the motto here, here in South America, well everywhere really, though no one is ever proven innocent. No one has the money, or the connections, well that is unless you have family in the Governing Agency. So as a thirteen year old girl convicted of murder there wasn't much I could do...

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The story is fictional, and any relation to anyone dead or alive is completely unintentional.


4. Realisation


A jolt in the car woke me suddenly. For a minute I'd forgotten where I was, that was until the events of earlier flashed into my mind. The rude awakening and the body, flashed into my mind.   The all of a sudden it hit me, Bradley's description of the body; Female, possibly sixteen, long brown hair with tanned skin, and pretty. I knew all those features. My mind was recreating them into an image, a person, a face. Delilah.   Delilah with her, flowing brown hair usually tied up. Delilah who was pretty, very pretty. Delilah, my sister Delilah, who is, or maybe was... I stopped myself there. Its not a was, I told myself. A tear rolled down my cheek and I sniffed trying not to make it too obvious. It didn't work, Bradley noticed almost immediately and his eyes flicked up towards the mirror, and raised his eyebrows. I looked away.   I cleared my throat. "Did..." I swallowed. "Did, the body... Person have their licence on them?" I asked Bradley, not directly. Bradley looked at me.    "I think so..." He replied. "Why..?" He looked at me through the mirror. It was his turn to wait for an answer. I waited a while, mind racing.   "Did you... Did you see the name? I mean on the, on the licence?" I managed to squeeze out. He thought for a moment, then replied. "Yeah I think so." I looked at him and drew a breath. "I saw a C I think, can't remember the rest." I let go of the breath. It wasn't Delilah. I could be safe in the knowledge at least. "Why...?" He asks.    "Oh." I replied. "No reason."
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