Remembering what happen three years ago may be hard for most people but not for me, Ani Rist, I can remember what my mother sang to me on my first birthday to from this moment right now. There's a technical tern for it, but I was never told what it is. I used to think that being able to recall everything you see and hear would be useless except for school work, however, I was wrong.

The police have interest in me staring at me with questionable gaze that tell me they have information yet they don't understand it. I was called here earlier today, my parents demanding to know why they were literally forced from their jobs and me from school.

I know why, so I'm just sitting in this ugly brown leather chair pretending to be the naïve nine-year that supposedly knows nothing that is going on around her. From the window I can see my mom and dad in the chief's office. My mom, who works as a nurse, is standing slightly behind my dad with confusion etched in her face. Unlike Mom, Dad isn't afraid to get into an argument about his sweet daughter. Well "sweet" for now, when they figure out what I've done, they'll be astounded at what I did three years ago, and then it'll be "Devil Child".

Hmm. Dad is obviously not liking what the chief is telling him. I can understand why he isn't. Unfortunately the glass isn't sound proof and my parents are fed up as I can easily hear the profanity slipping past my dad's mouth. I'll let them talk, or fight, it out while I go get some water. Hopefully they'll be done and I can hear what the police force has decided to do. Chief Barton will most probably want a written consent that'll be more than happy to write.

I leave the room quietly catching cold stares from employees at their desks. The entire department must know all about it. Hmph! It's not their business to know what I did. I quickly run down the hall dodging their uncomfortable gazes.

The cold water from the water fountain tastes a bit metallic, maybe tap water. It is refreshing though. I've already made my decision, as cruel as it will be, years ago. But it didn't mean I was nervous while I waited. I'm heading back with you, my lovely journal, and now I will see what the Chief has decided for me as he stands in front of his office. My parents
giving me pleading eyes searching to know the truth.

Chief Barton and three other officers walk up to me dressed in their navy blue uniforms their features stoic. The officer on the left walked up her blonde her tied into a restrained bun. Ms. Louise, I believe.

She clears her throat and speaks. "Ani Rist are you responsible for the death of thirty-six year old Andrew Marx that occurred three years ago on March 13, 2008."

I let my shoulders relax. My lips curling into a big smile and if you look closely enough you can see my back tooth missing. My eyes bright and letting the words roll off my tongue. "Yes ma'am."