Inner And Outer Demons

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Tris's POV

"What?!" Josephine exclaims when we tell her that her story isn't really holding up. Her perfectly manicured nails drum on the table, and it seems she's unable to stop her fingers from doing so. Probably nerves of whatever she's hiding.

"You're crazy, crazy if you think I did something like that. I never killed my sister and her family, I'm not a murderer." She pleads, running her hands through her loosely curled hair.

"Tell us where you went this morning." Four says, leaning forward in his chair.

"Nowhere, I told you. I was asleep."

"Then explain to me why there was an umbrella that was used early this morning, and why there are absolutely no pictures of you and your sister in your house." Four asks.

Josephine sits there for a moment, looking between Four, her lap and I.

"She didn't like to take pictures."

Four smirks, resting back in his chair. "You're one terrible liar."

"Wha--" Four cuts her off, "There are pictures of her everywhere in her own home. And Kaden's brother even has more pictures that have her in it than you do."

"I may not have pictures or my sister, and I may have a damp umbrella. So what? If I let you g search my house, you will find nothing. Nothing!" Josephine says, her voice rising.

"You giving us permission?" Four questions, tilting his head to the side.

"Yes."

"Alright, let's go." He says to me, getting up and leaving the room.

I follow him, "What about her?"

"She's not going anywhere. There's something in that house, I know it." Four says as we walk back down the front steps towards the car.

"But why would she let us look if there was?" I ask, as he starts the car. It's beginning to rain again, just a light mist though. As the windshield wipers go, Four turns left.

"There's something there that she's forgetting." He says.

I don't ask more on how he may know this, because if he's wrong I don't want to make a big deal of it now.

Walking back into Josephine's house, there's a different feel to it. Something eerie to it.

"I'll look upstairs." I tell Four, as he goes through drawers in the living room.

Walking up the steps again I turn to enter the first room I find, which mainly looks like a spare bedroom.

I open the drawers which are completely empty, they even look like they've never been used. I pull open the white closet door, and there's not even a single hanger.

Walking out of that room I enter what looks to be her bedroom. A light pastel pink pain lines the wall, with white flowers in the corners giving something more to the walls.

Over by her window she has a old fashioned looking desk, with a small lamp. Pulling on the know to open the small drawer, I find a journal looking book. The cover in a forest green colored leather, and the pages feel fragile as I flip through.

There are poems and entries, hand written in black and blue ink. Must be an aspiring writer, I think to myself.

Most of them are about her and her sister. Or her parents. At first they are sweet and have a meaning, that is until my eyes find the sentences that make me see that these poems and personal writing aren't out of love. But out of hate.