Framed by Memory

life on the large screens po

and awkward at fifteen, stood clutching my father's guitar, my knuckles whit

houlder. "That was your father's, wasn't

. Mrs. Hewitt was there, her smile as bright as the studio light

rom the conservatory, the Hewi

the same room where they would later die. I was on one knee,

ears streaming down her

, his eyes shining with pride. "Wel

eens we

dness of the Hewitts, contrasted with the brutal outcome, was too much

ived it, seemed shaken by the stark portrayal of her parents' l

just a killer; I was a serpent they had nu

ine whirred again, the needles in my scalp s

t memor