I could hear the wind roaring through my window, the storm outside had really transformed throughout the night, the sky had darkened even more giving the moon a glowing effect. Still, it was only the early hours in the morning. I started to drift back to sleep in my nice warm bed all snug and safe with my stitched teddy until the sound of the hail started pelting at my window.
I sat up straight, turned my bedside lamp on and glanced around my bedroom. My room has a nice warm feel to it, my TV sat in the corner with piles of a few teddies next to it, and my wardrobe was at the other far end of my room near my small bookcase filled with short picture books. I pulled the covers from me and got up out of bed and wandered to the door of my room, I could see my parents room from where I was standing, my mum was lay on her side fast asleep, she usually slept through tremendous storms like these, it must be from all of the work she has been doing recently, my mum is a teacher at a high school a few miles from our home she’s had many teaching jobs in the past few years as we’ve been travelling a lot. We’ve never really found the most suitable place for our family, we have only moved here, to Northwood recently.
But my father on the other hand was a particularly light sleeper, he’s recently been struggling to find work and has been spending a lot of his time down in the garage working on cars, in fact he’s had at least three different cars in our garage this week, I’m sure of it, I’m hoping one day everything really works out for my dad, I always remember the stories he told me when I was around 10 years old he used to tell me about his days at the mechanics shop and how one day he’ll have his own big dealership, that we’ll be rich living in a big luxury house and probably even have many homes all around the world. I tip-toed ever so slightly over to my parent’s room where I realized my dad wasn’t in bed, I guess he was probably down back in the garage, as per usual. Sometimes he’d be down there till around 1am, other times he’d wake up at 5am and work from then and all day unless he had something else to be doing that day.
As the wind got stronger and stronger I paced myself downstairs for a glass of water, it wasn’t that I was afraid of the dark, it was what is in the dark that I was afraid of. I headed over to the sink and turned the tap on, right in front of me was the window which lead to a view of my back yard, usually in the summer it’s a great place where I’d take my dog Jesse out to play for hours on end, it was good like that because there was so much grass around us and we had it all to ourselves, my mum wouldn’t be worried about me going too far because it was surrounded by an average heighted fence, it wasn’t as though it was a big field for the public too, it was ours. There weren’t many houses nearby although there is still a few within walking distance. As well as our yard, you can also see a church from a distance, this church was approximately a mile or 2 away from my house but you could just get a glimpse of it if you looked really closely. I stood on my tip-toes and reached out to the cupboard for a glass where I began to see two figures emerging past my yard.
I didn’t hesitate before dropping my glass in fright and utter shock; I jumped back when I heard the wind crashing the back door of the garage shut. The back garage door leads to the yard in which the two figures where moving across, which only lead me to the garage. As I paced down out of the kitchen and past the stairs I saw my mum looking down at me from the landing above me
“Sweetie, what time is it? What’s with all of that noise? You frightened me.” she said half asleep.
“Burglars! There’s somebody in our garage! Two people were in our garage, I have to go and see if dad is okay!”I yelped without hesitating.
I didn’t stay any further more to listen to what she had to say next but as I paced down the corridor I heard her footsteps down the stairs. As I approached the inside garage door I almost slipped on what appeared to be spilt water which had been spilt from the garage and made its way through a crack under the door and into the hallway.
Fortunately I didn’t fall flat on my back and I swung open the door only to find my father there on the floor beside his desk. The car he’d been working on most recently had been sent back off to the garage downtown, leaving him with lots of room for paperwork etc.
His tools were all flung across the room left right and centre, his paperwork way everywhere and some probably flew out with the escape of the two figures.
But there my dad was lying on the floor with a knife right by his stomach; from where I was standing I could see that he’d been stabbed way more than once, at least 7 times.
Why would somebody want to do this?
My name is Lucy Collington and there I was twelve years old without a father.
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