I sat in my red and blue dress at the table with my mom, aunts, and sister. They all enjoyed the little clown act my aunt had hired, especially my sister, the redhead, who was getting handed the balloon. But I couldn’t even look up at the man, I just felt sick. I couldn’t eat anything. I was the only one without a plate of food sitting in front of me, I just had my head down. If they knew too, they’d all feel sick. It wouldn’t be just me. Those joyful smiles would be replaced with frowns of horror. If only they knew that, that birthday clown, the same one who’s making them smile and laugh with joy, was the same man who killed our father. I would watch as their gleeful smiles turned into tears and anger. If only they knew.