I've started writing a book about my life. This is the first part of my book. It's just a rough draft. More or less a summary, which will have a lot more detail when I'm finished. I just wanted to post it to see what others think so far. Please leave me some comments, questions, and/or suggestions. Thanks! <3
It began like any other day. My mom
had left to go to a Christmas Around the World party, so our grandparents were
babysitting us. I was playing dolls with my sister and cousin, Shasta. We were
giggling and being silly like young, innocent children do. Without warning,
that innocence was shattered.
We
heard what we thought were fireworks coming from downstairs. “Daddy must be
here,” I cried in excitement. Many times my dad brought fireworks for us to
play with when he came over, so we assumed that’s what we had heard. We ran
downstairs, excited to see my father after so long. But what we saw next
quickly turned that excitement into horror. My dad walked through the kitchen
with a gun in his hand. He pointed the gun at my grandpa, who was standing in
the doorway between the kitchen and dining room. My dad pulled the trigger and
shot my grandpa in the shoulder. We all started crying in horror; we didn’t
understand why Dad was doing this. My older brother came out of the bathroom
behind us. I saw my younger brother, Jake appear next to my sister. They both
saw what Dad was doing and started crying also. Grandpa had fallen on his knees
and was pleading with Dad, “Please don’t hurt the children.” He kept begging
Dad over and over again. Then Dad shot him in the head and Grandpa fell to the
floor. He didn’t move or talk after that, and we knew he was dead. We were all
in shock; all we could do was stand there crying.
We
knew Dad loved us and didn’t want to hurt us, but we didn’t understand why he
would hurt Grandpa. Dad began shuffling us to the back door and told us to go
to the neighbor’s house. When we got to the back of the house, we saw Grandma
lying on the floor in front of the door. It was a horrific sight; she was
covered in blood, here glasses were broken, there was blood in her eyes. A soft
moan escaped from her lips. Shasta was very close to Grandma, so she seemed to
take it the hardest. She screamed, “Grandma, no!” and kneeled by her side. She
kept screaming Grandma’s name, trying to wake her up. Shasta clung tightly to
Grandma; she didn’t want to leave her there. I kept saying, “Shasta, we have to
go now. Come on, let’s go.” But she wouldn’t. We had to physically pull her
away to get her to come with us.
We
headed for the door and saw that the glass in the door window was shattered
where my dad had shot at Grandma from outside. Strangely calm, our dad led us
to our neighbor’s house. As we stood in his yard, I looked up at Dad with
pleading eyes and begged him, “Daddy, please don’t hurt mommy.” My dad looked
down at me with sorrow in his eyes and said, “I’m sorry honey, but your mommy
is already dead.” Nooooo! This can’t be
happening! I wanted to scream, but all I could do was stand there in
complete anguish and cry even harder. I was only ten years old; I couldn’t
believe this was happening. How could my dad do this? I prayed that Mom would be okay, that she
would make it. She was a very strong and determined person. She wasn’t going to
die like this; I just knew she wouldn’t leave me.
Dad
told us to go up to the neighbor’s house, so we knocked on his door. When he
opened the door, he saw all of us standing there in tears and asked, “What’s
wrong?” Through our tears, we told him what Dad had done. I turned around to
find Dad, but he was gone. Our neighbor took us inside and called the police.
He gave us milk and cookies and tried to calm us down.
The
neighbor we were with was an elderly man, so when our other neighbors found out
what was going on they took us to their place, which was on the other side of
our house. Soon there were police everywhere. Everything was such a blur; the
only thing I could hear was the piercing sound of sirens and people sobbing all
around me. I was afraid to look outside because I thought I would see my dad
and I was scared of him. But when I looked out the window, all I saw were cop
cars with flashing sirens filling the streets. The neighbors quickly shut the
curtains and moved us away from the windows, fearing for our safety.
After
what seemed like an eternity, our other grandparents (my mom’s mom and
step-dad) showed up at our neighbor’s house. Grandma was crying as she gathered
us all in her arms. I knew she had bad
news when she looked down at us sadly. She tried to keep her voice steady as
she explained what had happened, “Your dad shot your mom in the gas station
parking lot. She died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital.” Her voice
cracked, but she kept going. “Your neighbor parked his car behind your dad’s
driveways so he couldn’t get away. The police chased after him and shot him in
the back of the knee, so he couldn’t run anymore. When your dad realized he
would go to prison, he killed himself. I’m so sorry.” It was as if someone had
just torn my heart out of my chest. I was dying inside; I wanted my mom back! I
felt so scared and helpless; there was nothing I could do to change what had
happened and I hated it. I will never forget any part of that day, as much as I
may want to, because it was the worst day of my life. A part of me died with my
mom that day.
That’s
not the end of my story though. It was the end of 10 years of trauma and bad
memories, but the beginning of a new life.
