Was It Her?

There is no health without mental health; mental health is too important to be left to the professionals alone, and mental health is everyone's business.

-Vikram Patel

Prologue

Nita sat in the back of the ambulance, with the brown soft blanket given to her by one of the paramedics draped over her. She looked down at her indigo sandals, still red and wet from stepping in a mix of her vomit and his blood. Adrian’s blood. She found him in the kitchen, his lifeless body laid out on the floor surrounded by a warm pool of his blood. His throat slit from one end to the other, with a large, chef’s kitchen knife lodged into his chest, right near his heart. When she walked in and found him lying there, she froze. It was as if her mind couldn’t process what she was seeing. Her boyfriend of eight months had been murdered. She slowly walked over to him, her first instinct was to scream, but the vomit, from her being in shock and the overwhelming smell of the blood, came first.

She dropped to her knees and burst into tears. Her screams echoed through the Garcia’s two-story home. After getting herself together for a few moments she was able to dig into her back pocket and grab her cell phone to call 911. She panicked with every passing second, her bloody fingers trembling, as she struggled to press the numbers on the screen.  She didn’t even know what to say, she spent most of the time crying in the dispatcher’s ear. By the time the cops came, Nita couldn’t even walk without the assistance of the officers. They tried asking her a few questions, but it was no use.  She just gave them a dead stare. She had nothing to tell them. She had come over to surprise him. She planned on them spending the evening together watching movies and eating junk food, only to walk in and find him dead.

She stared at the blood on her sandals and the lights from the cop cars flashed all around her. She looked up for a moment and noticed that there was a crowd forming in the street as his body was carried out on a stretcher, covered in white. The blood was so strong, the stains soaked through the sheet, making the sight of him even more horrific. That, combined with all the stares, gasping, whispers, and tears, from neighbors, made Nita feel like throwing up again.

Amanita!

She heard her name being called and looked to her right to notice it was her father Robert. Her parents had stopped their car in the middle of the street, not even bothering to park. Her mother and father pushed their way through some of the people that were standing around. Her mother, Latisha, immediately threw her arms around her daughter, accompanied by Nita’s father.

Are you alright? Oh my God! My baby, I’m so sorry! Her mother exclaimed.

Before Nita could even respond, over walked Detective Loretta Jackson of the Wicomino County Police Department. Nita could tell by the look on her face, she wasn’t coming over to say anything good. Loretta stood in front of Nita and her parents, sighing deeply before telling them the last thing they wanted to hear. Nita glanced behind Detective Jackson and noticed a uniformed officer walking up to her, with cuffs in his hand.

Mr. and Mrs. Matua, I’m sorry, but your daughter is going to have to come with us, Loretta said sternly. Amanita Matua, you have the right to remain silent...

Her whole world suddenly went dark as she was being read her rights, and the officer was slapping the cuffs on her wrists. Her father started yelling, demanding that the officer take the cuffs off his daughter and release her immediately. Her mother cried and pleaded with him.

Sixteen-year-old Amanita Matua went from being a normal teenage girl to the number one suspect in the murder of her seventeen-year-old boyfriend, Adrian Garcia within a matter of hours. 

1

Moving On

What do you want!? She yelled out in terror.

Someone was trying to break into her room, kicking at the door and yanking on the knob. Terrified, Nita had grabbed her dresser and pushed it up against the door to keep out the intruder. It wasn’t working. The kicks were getting stronger and it was a matter of time before they were inside. She ran to her window, ripped down the curtains, and flung it open. She climbed out, legs first, knowing there was nowhere to go but down. She would have to jump, which she knew was a bad idea, but it was either jump and risk having a fifty/fifty chance of surviving with a few broken bones or be killed by whoever was after her. She clung to the edge of her windowsill, and within a matter of seconds, she heard her door swing open, knocking over the dresser. The mystery person made their way to the window, grabbing ahold of Nita’s hands before she could let go. They then pulled out a huge kitchen knife and impaled her left hand, blood dripping onto her face. She screamed, as the person looking down on her, was Adrian. Except, it wasn’t him. He had no face. But she knew it was him because of his dark, thick, wavy hair and sharp widow's peak.

Adrian? She said softly, with fear still in her voice.

The faceless being was quiet, still holding on to her as she screamed for her life. He then yanked the knife from her hand, and she couldn’t hold on any longer. She fell, falling backward, watching the faceless person watch her fall to her death. This was it.

Amanita awoke to her alarm clock buzzing. It was six-forty-five a.m., and it was her first official day back at school. She rubbed her hand where she had been stabbed in her nightmare, the tingling sensation still lingering. She slammed hard on the off button of her alarm clock but decided to lie there for a few more minutes. Her heart was racing from the nightmare she had just had. Strangely this time, she didn’t wake up screaming. She had a nightmare every night for the past three months since the night it happened. The night she walked into her boyfriend’s home and found him dead on his kitchen floor. It was the worst night of her entire life. 

That night of the murder, Nita was placed in handcuffs and escorted to the police vehicle, she watched from the window as her parents continued to plead with the detective to let her go. She couldn’t hear anything but muffled sounds of them yelling and screaming at Detective Jackson. Her mother placed both hands up against the windows, calling out to her.

Nita, sweetie, don’t worry! We’ll be right behind you! Everything will be okay! Her mother cried.

The officer pulled away, Nita didn’t even bother to look back at her parents who were probably getting back into their car, on their way to the station. Nita’s heart repeatedly collided against her chest as she sat in the back of the cold cop car. The leather seats made her uncomfortable, and the doors having no locks from the inside made her feel like she was already a prisoner.

You think she did it? The officer sitting on the passenger side whispered to his partner.

I don’t know man. 

Nita could see the officer looking at her from the rearview mirror as he was driving. She faced the window, watching the road as they made their way to the police station. She knew for sure that night, that she would be going down for Adrian’s murder. She felt like her life was over.

During the interrogation, her father was present, giving the detective murderous looks as his sixteen-year-old daughter was being questioned like a criminal. She sat in that room for five hours, answering the same questions repeatedly. 

Why were you at the victim’s house?

How long were you there before you dialed 911?

Where were you before you came to the victim’s house? Can anyone verify that?

Did you two argue prior to that night?

All questions that she thought would have simple legitimate answers, but Detective Jackson didn’t seem convinced. Nita didn’t have an alibi. Her parents were out having dinner when she left her house to go see Adrian. Nita was in holding for forty-eight hours, in which it felt like a lifetime before she was released with no charges. Although she had no one to vouch for her alibi, her fingerprints weren’t found on the murder weapon. Other than her being at the scene, they had no real evidence to charge her with.

She was free, but this wasn’t the end of it. No one, besides her parents and her best friend Benjamin believed she was innocent. Adrian’s parents didn’t even allow her to go to the funeral, which broke her into pieces. Nita and her parents suffered harassment from the community for weeks. Death threats, vandalism, it was a nightmare. Nita’s parents even threatened to sue the police department after Nita attempted suicide until Detective Jackson urged the sheriff to make a public announcement threatening to act against anyone caught harassing the Matua’s. 

The harassing ceased, and Nita’s therapist felt that it was a good time for her to try and get her life back to normal. The first step was getting back to school. She knew this would be the biggest challenge of all. Adrian was a beloved star athlete. The group of friends they once shared, all shunned her and had turned the entire school against her. Thankfully, she had Benjamin. He had done time in Juvie for assault when he was fourteen, so people knew not to mess with him, or Nita if he was around.

Nita heard a knock on her bedroom door, it was her mother Latisha. She must’ve heard Nita’s alarm clock going off. She slowly opened the door and walked over to her daughter’s bed, sitting at the edge.

Big day today sweetie. Are you sure you’re ready? Her mother asked.

Do I have a choice? Nita mumbled as she sat up.

You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.

I’ve hidden long enough. I’m tired of giving everyone the satisfaction of isolating myself. Nita said as she tossed her blankets aside and got out of bed.

Nita! Get your ass down here girl! We got asses to kick today!

Oh, I forgot to mention that Benjamin is downstairs waiting for you, probably eating your breakfast. Her mother said playfully.

Nita smiled and quickly made her way downstairs. Sitting in the dining room, Benjamin had one leg propped up, with his medium-length blonde hair in a sloppy man bun and his dirty sneakers on her parent’s mahogany table, with a plate in his hand, stuffing his face with crispy bacon. 

Good morning beautiful. He greeted her, mouth still full.

Morning Ben, Nita replied, yawning.

You look like crap. He said, putting down the plate and walking up to her. It’s your first day back, you can’t show up looking like a human trash can. He ran his fingers through her curly hair. 

I need to shower, then I’ll worry about everything else.

Nita’s father Robert was coming down the stairs, still in his