He shoved her up against the wall, yelling and threatening; this wasn’t the first time either. She was helpless, but she never hit back, bruises riddled her body. This time it was getting particularly violent and so it became the first of many. As the bullet embedded itself in his back, his eyes rolling back, she screamed. She caught his falling body in horror, fresh tears poured down her face.
“You killed him! How could you?” She cradled his body against her.
“But- mom, he- he was hurting you. What else could I do?”
“You killed him! Get out! Get out!” she cried, kissing his lifeless face.
Scared, I ran. I ran out of that house, fingers holding tight to the gun. I had killed him, he was truly gone. She had loved him… no matter how bad it got, she had still loved him. How? How could anyone love a monster like that? I turned into an alley throwing up what little food was in my stomach. I heard the sirens screeching to my house. I shoved the gun under my shirt and kept running. Would she sell me, her own child, out? She cared more for that man then she ever did me.
In my panic ridden state, I found myself in front of my best friend’s house. Whenever I couldn’t stand being at home I would go to her. I knocked and she appeared my savior, my angel.
“What happened to you?” She grabbed my arm dragging me into the house, her soft voice riddled with concern.
I told her everything, as I always end up doing. I sank to the floor, curled up, trying to block out the memory. The grief I felt for mom. The fear I felt from the sirens. The satisfaction that he was dead. It was all too much, I couldn’t handle it, I broke down and cried for the first time in years. She wrapped her arms around me, cooing words of comfort in my ear. We sat like that as I regained control, it would be a long time before my hands stopped shaking but I was able to lift my head and speak with clarity.
It was then that the sirens sounded, speeding ever closer to our location. I could see them now, the blue and red lights flashing outside the house. A fierce knock echoed through the otherwise silent house. I glanced at her, her eyes showed her own fear.
“Miss, this is the police. Open up!”
She stood hesitantly and I grabbed her arm, shaking my head in a silent plea to not answer. They don’t know she’s home. There are no lights on. It’s like we don’t exist right now.
She knelt beside me, “I think you should turn yourself in.”
“What? Why?” I whispered.
“You can’t run forever, and the longer you do the worse your situation will get. Please, just turn yourself in. I know you’re scared but what you did was illegal, just turn yourself in.” Her voice was sincere; there was no erasing what I had done but to turn myself in? Resign myself to a life in prison? All because of that man?
Her eyes shone with tears as she gently slid my hand off hers and walked to the door. No. This is wrong! I yelled to myself as I raised the gun and took careful aim. Before she turned the lock I shot. She was the second. I couldn’t look as her eyes met mine during the fall, crystal blue. As pure as you could get. No one would suspect her to betray them, but she had.
The gunshot alerted the police and they began efforts to break down the door. I ran around to each window discretely looking out it. The house was surrounded. I had been caught. There was only one thing left to do then. I raised the gun for one last time, pulled the trigger and was gone. I was the third one that night.
I left two families broken in one night. My mother lost the only two remaining members of her family left and my friends’ parents buried their baby girl. It shook the neighborhood, but in one week the news forgot about them. In one month people began to heal. In a year the neighborhood had all but forgotten. My mom though, remembers that night to this day, it haunts her and has driven her mad. When I last checked on her, she was buying her first gun.
Violence breeds more Violence.
© Copyright 2016 EvD. All rights reserved.