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Lynch was desperate, but so was I.
“I’ll do it.” I would watch over Mia, do what I couldn’t do for Livy. I’ll make sure nothing ever happened to her, but in the meantime, I’d also raise hell in this fucking institution and eliminate the bastards who gang-raped and murdered my little sister.
The police had said it was suicide by hanging. Deep down, I knew the truth. Livy would’ve never left Tommy behind or take the life of their baby. Livy would have never left me behind.
But those were all assumptions.
The cold hard truth? I’d been the first one at the scene. The facts had screamed at me from the door of her dorm. Livy didn’t have the height nor strength to have carried out the suicide. It had taken Livy until the age of eight to learn to tie her shoe. I hardly believed she configured a noose in the form of a bedsheet.
The cold hard truth? I’d spent months investigating her case, reading the reports, studying her last months, visited Tommy. They didn’t bother testing the skin under her nails for DNA. They didn’t bother interrogating the students. And they never bothered to report the bruises or evidence of foul play that painted over her body.
They didn’t fucking care.
Suicide was much easier to jot down. Investigating the truth was harder. Shit, people wanted easy. They wanted a closed case and to go home to their families.
Crazy how one lie on a death certificate could haunt a soul daily, on top of the last memory I had of her. The memory of saying goodbye to her cold, lifeless body at the morgue. I would never forget the way her forehead felt beneath my kiss.
That chill ran through me ever since.
The cold hard truth was, if I wanted something done, I had to do it myself. It was time Livy’s murderers were punished, and thanks to Tommy, one of them had been taken care of. But it was up to me to take out the last four blokes under the same fate they’d given my sister.
One by fucking one.