Proof The Bible Is True

I stood outside my sister’s house that cold March morning trying to understand how everything had changed. Police cars lined the driveway. An ambulance drove away and a coroner drove up.

 

How was this possible? We had all been together the night before eating Sunday dinner at my mom’s house. Could it really be true that my sister was dead?

 

“What do you think happened?” I looked at my mom, shivering. Neither of us had grabbed a coat in our urgent dash to my sister’s house on the other side of town.

 

Mom shrugged and shook her head. “When do you think the police will let us in?” I asked, wrapping my arms tightly around myself. Time seemed to be going backward. How long had we been outside her house? An hour? Two hours? “What do you think happened?” I asked again.

 

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