M’traliel had never shared the story with anyone. Not once since childhood, when she shared some, but not the entire story with her parents.

At that time, she started to tell the story to the authorities. She was sitting in her kitchen, her parents were with her, but as she talked, the officers looked on disbelievingly, started to suggest M’traliel was making use of an all too vivid imagination, so stopped giving them a full accounting, and simply acted like she was unsure of what unfolded.

When in point of fact, she was quite certain there was far more never shared.

In her final year at N’rellia, with the disarming warmth of llhaesa close by during the night, the walls within M’traliel evaporated, exposing the hidden roots of the long held secret from her childhood.

On one night, the story came at her hard as she tried to sleep, as it sporadically had done ever since M’traliel’s youth. Fighting to layer sleep over the what was in fact a nightmare while awake, M’traliel tossed and turned, and fussed with her pillow, never quite getting it right.

Llhaesa, who had already blissfully settled into sleep, was brought back to consciousness by the jerking movements borne from the pillow jousting. With eyes opened, she immediately picked up on M’traliel’s distress, wrapped an around M’traliel’s waist, and asked if she wished to talk.

“Yes. Yes, I do wish to talk, but I also have no desire to infringe upon your sleep.” M’traliel unnecessarily apologised for being restless.

“MZ… nonsense. Please tell me what is bothering you.” Llhaesa encouraged.

“OK. This goes back to something I witnessed as a young child. I was outside playing, and decided to walk down the street. Relatives lived a few houses down, and I wished to go say hello to them.

I was 7 years of age at the time. Walking past one home two houses away from our relatives, the front door opened. The woman who lived there – her name was Kyielra – opened the front door. She had this serious expression on her face – I’ll never forget it – and she was looking around as if she thought someone had been at that front door.

Suddenly, she – Kyielra – turned to look behind her, towards the inside of the home, but she was still physically standing in the doorway. And as Kyielra did so, let loose with a scream the memory of which makes my hair wish to stand on end. I think it did in that moment.

I can still see all of this so vividly in my mind’s eye, as if it were witnessed in slow motion. First I saw his arm, a black sleeve, black glove on hand. Kyielra fell – was pulled backward a bit, but she dug in her heels. I saw a flash, a reflection from something shiny, and Kyielra went limp, slumping downward, then spun around. The black armed, black gloved man was now visible, for he had spun Kyielra’s body around – I’m pretty sure she was dead or close to it already, there was blood just oozing down her and onto him. Anyway, he pulled her outside, onto the steps.

By then, I had ran and hidden behind a bush in front of the home on the opposite side of the street. This guy… I would guess he was in his 20’s, but as a child it is so hard to guess ages, everyone not a child is old – there are kids and there are old folks, or so it seems…”

At this, llhaesa laughed knowingly, for that is exactly how she felt about age as a child. She refocused as M’traliel was moving back into the story.

“He was completely dressed in black – black overalls, the one piece kind. After Kyielra’s body was on the steps, he ripped off some of her clothing, enough so that she was partially naked. Bent over her body, he used the knife again, and I’ve no idea why. She was clearly dead. He stood, grabbed some of the ripped up clothing and wiped the blood off his knife, before putting it away. Finally, e ran off around the back of the home, and I could see him between homes cutting off across another yard, then jumping and crawling over a fence.

I will never forget his face, but of course that was 15 years ago. Dark hair, with a full moustache, cool, no sign of any emotion, panic, etc. That guy was a professional.

Nothing was taken from the home; at least that is what authorities said at the time.

What I’ve wondered for quite a while now – after I reached an age where we contemplate and ponder why something happens the way it unfolded – and it does not make sense. Why would a professional, a professional who was not burglarising a home, a professional who was inside the home and killed the occupant while she was standing in a doorway looking out… it does not add up. And what did he do to Kyielra with the knife after she was lying there? This guy went there for some specific purpose. All these years later, I feel pulled to understand why.

Seeing a man slaughter Kyielra was a huge motivation for my moving into feminism, into activism for change. I’d like to know why, llhaesa… would like to do that to bring closure for Kyielra… but how can one bloody solve something 15 years into the past? And so I just need to find a way to get it out of my head.”

At this, llhaesa was back to hugging M’traliel, grabbing a soft tissue with which to wipe the now visible and running tears on M’traliel’s face.

“That is an absolutely awful thing for a child to witness, and a even more awful thing to carry around as a memory from childhood. Maybe we need to think on this a bit more and actually look for ways to find information. Why don’t we see Dr. Xxhera tomorrow? You know, the criminology professor?” llhaesa had just generated sufficient hope to bring M’traliel to sleep – eventually – on this night.