Family Isn't Always Blood

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: March 23, 2019

A A A | A A A

Submitted: March 23, 2019



I, 15 year old Adrian Wolf, am saying goodbye to the world. Life is too hard. Nothing is right in the world. I am going to die anyway. Why spend my life suffering through trials and pain if I can just die now? Everything will just be better. I can’t make the world a better place. Nobody can. You can’t change the world. It will just get worse and worse, and nothing will stop it.


I sat in my house, tears running, writing my goodbye letter to anyone who found my body. My family was away for the weekend. A semi-automatic glock pistol sat on the desk next to me, one bullet inside. One would be all it took. One shot to the brain, and then there was no going back. To be honest, I was nervous. I had thought about it a lot. It was the right decision, I was sure.

My head jerked from my writing when I heard sirens outside my window. Lots of sirens. Well, at least I wouldn’t die alone. I went to the window to watch for a minute. Death could wait a few minutes. There were two SWAT trucks and and FBI van outside on my driveway. Tears clogged in my throat. I raked my nails down my forearm. What were they here for? A man in his 30’s talked through a microphone of some sort.


“Adrian Wolf. Don’t do it. Just listen to what I have to say before you do it, ok?” I just stared. I wasn’t making any promises. “Adrian, we know about your parents. We know what they did to you. What they did was a horrible, awful thing and no kid should have to go through it. But you did. It’s not your fault. There is still good in the world. Look, just come out and talk to us. We can help you. But to do that, we need you to help us.” Emotions welled up inside me. “They destroyed me! They ruined me! There is not going back from that! I called Protective Services and they did nothing! My parents are terrible people. They don’t deserve me! Neither does Protective Services!


They didn’t help! They just made things worse! When my dad found out, guess what he did! What do you think? He beat the life out of me that night and I couldn’t walk for weeks because of broken ribs and a broken shin! I’m just better off dead where no one can hurt me!”

“But you see, Adrian, no one can hurt you when you’re dead, but then again, no one can help you when you’re dead. It all depends on how you look at it. Do you want help?” I stayed silent, unsure. “Just come on out Adrian, and we can help you. We can make it so that the only time you ever see your parents in your life is in court. That’s it. You don’t even have to see them.” “But my memories. They always come back. The nightmares. I will see them in my dreams.” “Adrian, we know about your severe PTSD. There is medicine for that. Medicine that can help. But again, we can’t help you if you don’t come out. Look, at least come to the front yard where we can see you.”


I considered it for a minute. I could bring the gun with me and that would stop them from attacking me. That way, if I decided, I could still kill myself. I grabbed the gun, and walked outside to the front yard. Everything looked different from here. I looked from person to person, unsure of what to do.

“That’s good Adrian. We just want to help you. Look over to your left, that’s where I am. See me in the truck?” I turned so my body faced to my left, and pointed the gun at a man walking towards me. He stopped quickly. “We are going to help you ok? We are going to get you the help that you need. Can you put the gun down? We can’t have you accidentally shooting it. To help you, we need you to listen to us. Just put down the gun. We can’t help you if you don’t.” I lowered the gun, tears dripping down.


A SWAT team guy body slammed me, but with my finger still on the trigger or the gun, it went off...on me. The white-hot bullet pierced my stomach, lodging itself right against my spine. I screamed out in pain. My vision blurred. The SWAT guy looked horrified. He kicked the gun away from my hand. He yelled to some of his buddies, but I heard nothing. I blinked, trying to stay conscious. Pain ripped through me in waves, in sync with my labored breathing.

I saw the bright lights of an ambulance. The SWAT guy pressed a shirt to my stomach, where blood was leaking through my shirt.

Two paramedics put a C-spine collar around my neck to keep me stabilized. “Adrian can you hear me?” I nodded. Sound had started to come back. “Ok, try not to move ok? Just stay still for me. Take a deep breath.” I did, but it made me cough up blood. “Ok, just relax for me.” But I couldn’t relax. It was hard to breathe, and pain ripped through my stomach with every breath.

They loaded me onto a spinal board, and quickly wrapped bandages around my stomach. They put me on oxygen but it wasn’t helping my breathing. “Ok, Ray, I need you to call the helicopter team. Adrian, I need you to calm down, ok? Ray, tell them to bring the Trauma Doctor. Adrian, calm, deep breaths for me. We need to get your breathing under control.” A Trauma Doctor entered the scene in bright orange clothing. He assessed me and then he turned to another EMT, “Get an IV in him please. Use some ketamine to kill his pain.” There were a lot of people rushing around me, in and out of the ambulance.

I felt someone put a really tight band around my forearm. A minute later someone said, “sharp scratch” and I felt a needle being put into my hand. They cut off the band and started to give me pain medication. The Doctor looked at me. “Adrian, this is gonna kill the pain, but it can also make you hallucinate. So you need to remember that if you see anything weird ok?” I nodded, my breathing still labored. Everything started to go in a haze.


But then I started to reunite with my past. Started to remember things I had spent years trying to forget. My father, beating me half to death. My mother watching and laughing. A knife at my throat, my father threatening to kill me. My father trying to kill me, when he one day slit my throat. But I stitched it myself. So I lived. I should’ve just died.


“No! No, make it stop! Please make it stop.” “I heard a numbing echo of a voice, “Adrian, you need to stay still! It’s not real ok? You’re just imagining it.” “No, it is real. I remember. Please make it stop. Please. I can’t do it anymore. Where’s a gun? I need a gun. Someone give me my gun.” “No, Adrian, you’re going to be fine. You don’t need a gun. We  are going to take care of you, ok? But you need to stop jerking around. You’re making everything worse.” I jerked into a sitting position, and tried to get up. But hands held onto me. “Whoa, Adrian. You were just shot. You need to lie down.” “But I missed. I should’ve hit my head or my neck. I missed. Why did I miss?”

“Ok, Ray, give him something.” Hands pulled me back onto the bed, and I felt a cold liquid enter through the IV. Calmness began to settle me. Exhaustion took over. “Don’t bother saving me,” I whispered. “Don’t bother. It won’t do anything.” “Just relax, Adrian. You’re going to be fine. We are going to help you. That’s what we are here for.” Everything passed quickly as they loaded me into a helicopter, kept me on oxygen, and flew me to the hospital. My eyes started to droop.


“Hey, Adrian, you need to stay awake for me. Ok, it’s really important that you stay awake. Talk to me…” But I was just too tired. “I can’t, man. I just can’t. Just let me die. Please. I’m not worth all these resources.” “Adrian, you can and need to stay awake. All these resources came because they wanted to help you. Not because they were told to, because they wanted to. Don’t waste their sacrifice.” But I was already unconscious.


© Copyright 2019 Bourne. All rights reserved.

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