[TW - Can be of graphic description, mentions of abuse, mental health issues.]
I keep dreaming about my sister’s killer.
My sister was murdered a year ago.
She was found completely mutilated - her throat slit so deeply that she was almost decapitated.
I chose to identify her. It was either me, or my mother. We were advised discretely, that if it was Lana, we would essentially have the image of her corpse burned permanently into our brains because whoever murdered her, was incredibly inhumane.
The skin on her left arm was partially dissolved; showing her bone which also had started to dissolve on the tips of her fingers. I questioned the lead detective on the case about this, and he suggested it was a form of torture. Dunking her hand in, and then out of acid. Her right hand, had all of her fingertips chopped off - more like sawed off. The thought of it makes me sick to my stomach; that she endured all of that and still survived for days until he was merciful enough to take her life.
Her face was disfigured. Beaten, black and blue. Her eyes were swollen shut. Her teeth were removed and blood had dried in her gums. Her Taylor Swift shirt that she was wearing on the day that she went missing was cut; shredded in various different areas and I could see lengthy gashes that would have been caused by a long blade between the rips.
She was unrecognisable. Blood was tangled and between her long, blonde hair and had stained parts of it dark red.
It was very clear that whoever murdered her, didn’t want her to be recognisable.
But I know my sister. I know her from the scar that drags down between the middle of her lips from when she attempted to do a backflip into the pool and caught herself on the edge; resulting in stitches and a lot of crying from her.
I know her from the small cradled group of freckles on the side of her neck that resemble the outline of the Eiffel Tower. Somehow, whoever killed her had just missed slicing her neck right through the loveable cluster.
I know her from the way her toes used to curl at the ends and I used to think that she had crunched them up so hard during athletics training that they had permanently changed to resemble a broken toe. That was before I realised that our grandmother has the same toes.
Grandma stated that she was no longer insecure about her toes that day, because she was happy that she and Lana shared them. Weird, but very wholesome.
I know my sister. And there is no way, that I could let my mother see her like this.
I informed them that it was her. There was no doubt in my mind - that it was her. Then, I excused myself and, started walking towards the door before I projectile vomited all over the door and floor; covering the white tiles and beaming white door with a small glass window at eye level height with bile. I had no food in my stomach. How could one eat when their sister was missing just hours before?
It’s been a year since that day. I’m glad that my mother never saw her corpse. I have been going to intensive therapy since; trying to make peace with, or at least, move on from what I saw.
The thing that gives me a small amount of peace is the fact that I saved my mother this trauma. We have been through enough; suffering at the hands of my dad for years from horrendous abuse that left all of us needing to relocate and escape him. Sexual, physical, emotional abuse…All of us suffered immensely from my father. From what I know now, he is in jail for being a child molester for hurting my sister and I. I chose not to care for his trial. It happened too late; the trauma was already done and all I cared about was our family being safe. That includes my mum, and I would do anything to protect her.
Although, I have been having some difficulty with my own mental health. Nightmares flood my mind when I try to go to sleep; always about my sister and her final moments.
In my nightmare, I am the one hurting her. Twisting her legs until they snap in various places; screaming at her that she ruined my life.
I have to be honest, I was angry with my sister when she disappeared. I had caught her, sleeping with my now ex-husband, Tom, days before she went missing.
I knew she liked him, she always had. He was my boyfriend from when I was fifteen. Lana always tried to be around him, giggling stupidly whenever he talked; he wasn’t even that funny. She was a few years younger, you see. I brushed it off as a silly crush that Tom didn’t entertain.
I was wrong. When I caught them, I felt something in them snap. At first, I thought he was raping her — my brain tried to justify it. She wouldn’t ever betray me like this.
But when we talked, Lana and I - she expressed that it had been going on for years. She said that he promised that he would leave me, and they would run away and start their own family together.
I was heartbroken. I filed for divorce immediately. And I vowed that I would never, let her hurt me again.
But, this took everything from me. I became so depressed that I was made redundant from my job due to the fact that I wasn’t meeting performance goals that were a requirement.
I had to sell the house as I couldn’t afford it; and bought a shitty apartment downtown where I can hear my neighbours pinging off the walls at all hours of the night on speed, probably.
I’m not allowed to see my children as Tom managed to secure a really fancy lawyer, and filed a violence restraining order on me because I smashed a vase, after seeing my sister and husband together.
I was alone. I thought about ending it all. Hell, I am surprised I didn’t try.
But I wouldn’t kill her. My subconscious is making me feel so guilty about the anger I felt towards her; that it is forcing me to think that I would. So that I am punished for being angry at her in her last few days of life.
I have these nightmares often, but I am a man in them. My name is Connor, in the dream. But Lana, always refers to me as Codi. My name.
She begs me, Codi, to stop. She even pleads that we’re sisters and that it didn’t have to come to this. That we can make things right.
She asks Connor why he’s talking in a silly voice, and to snap out of it and then she laughs at him for the way his hair is sitting.
She tells him that he sick, that he won’t remember this and that she will help him get help.
As he gets closer to her, I can see the shadow that’s towering over her. It’s my own.
These nightmares, have been keeping me from being able to move on with my life.
Until her killer is caught, I won’t be able to move on with my life.
I’m starting to think I should turn myself in.