Prologue

What we have done for ourselves alone dies with us; what we have done for others and the world remains and is immortal.

-Albert Pike

prologue

One death can hit you hard like a bullet to the chest.

In Anton, Georgia, my life turned around for the worse. I guess it needed to happen to make me enjoy life and see it as precious.

Well first, the name is Blake. Jonah Marcel Blake. I did not plan on being the detective of her death, it kind of just happened. But it was interesting to reveal her killer at the end. I have learned a lot of things along the way though. About who I am and about the secrets of the Moreland family. Even though it took a lot of pain and death to learn all of these.

Most of my family is extreme and mad. People in our family have killed other people in our family. But I do not wish for another family. I love the stable ones, and even the unstable. Now, we should start from the beginning…

On February 14, 2013, it was just a normal day at school. I was hanging out with my best friend, Kingston Ortega, and hating school, you know the usual. When school was over with, I talked to someone (actually, a girl) I thought I would not have the courage to talk to…Micah Marion. We were talking about nothing really, just how school and our tests are. Today was a different day though; I was going to my grandmother’s house. Her name was Hope Faith Moreland.

Once I got off the bus, I smelled a little trickle of blood. I smelled it coming from my grandma’s road. I ran down the hill and saw a few people staring at my grandma’s house. I went inside and saw blood seeping from the ceiling.

“Grandma!” I yelled. I did not hear an answer. “Grandma!” I yelled again. Once again I did not an answer. I ran upstairs and saw blood spread out all on the walls and the floor. I was definitely getting afraid of what I was going to find. I ran up to the attic and immediately started to whimper. Over there in the far corner was my grandmother sitting in a small pool of blood, weak. I ran to her and yelled, “Grandma, what happened?!”  She did not answer. I immediately started to fear the worst. I ran downstairs to my alternative room and grabbed my cell phone and called 911.

“Hello this is the 911 service. What is your emergency,” the 911 lady asked.

I uttered, “I need an ambulance. I think my grandmother is dead.”

“Okay what is your address, sir?”

I replied, “1024 Lamont Boulevard.”

“Okay sir. We will be there as soon as we can.”

I lastly responded, “Okay, thank you, ma’am.” Then I hung up the phone.