Post by Akkii on Jan 11, 2009 7:04:24 GMT -8
We sat on the couch. My mommy, who held my one-year-old brother, me, and my twin sister, Aidan. Mom was telling us more about Jesus. Everybody was so into the story we didn't here my father's pickup pull into the driveway, coming home from the bar.
He came into the house and managed to hear Mommy talking about Jesus. He was drunk. Mom told us to go back to our rooms. We stood up and took Joel, our little brother, with us. We reached the hallway, but our father called us.
"Nadia, Aidan, stand there and watch this!" He commanded them. We did, and watched, terrified, as he took the shotgun off the wall and shot Mom, who was still on the couch. He did it so fast, she didn't have time to get off. We saw the blood, coming from her chest, where your heart is, soak up her shirt.
Joel was crying from the loud noise. He was a baby, he didn't know what was going on. But we cried too. Because just a second after Mom was shot, she closed her eyes for the last time. Our father spoke again.
"That's what happens when you disobey me, understand?!" He growled.
We didn't answer. He threw the gun on the ground and walked over, smacking us both. We cried more. "Understand?!" He growled again. Aidan and I nodded together, holding our baby brother close.
"Now go to your room!" Our father roared, pointing down the hall. We started walking. As we walked by him he spanked us both and we ran until we made it to our room with our baby brother. Joel was still crying. So were we.
That was two years ago. We're eight now, Joel is three. When our father isn't drunk, he doesn't even help us at all. He doesn't cook dinner for us, he doesn't clean anything, we have to try our best to take care of ourselves.
He came into the house and managed to hear Mommy talking about Jesus. He was drunk. Mom told us to go back to our rooms. We stood up and took Joel, our little brother, with us. We reached the hallway, but our father called us.
"Nadia, Aidan, stand there and watch this!" He commanded them. We did, and watched, terrified, as he took the shotgun off the wall and shot Mom, who was still on the couch. He did it so fast, she didn't have time to get off. We saw the blood, coming from her chest, where your heart is, soak up her shirt.
Joel was crying from the loud noise. He was a baby, he didn't know what was going on. But we cried too. Because just a second after Mom was shot, she closed her eyes for the last time. Our father spoke again.
"That's what happens when you disobey me, understand?!" He growled.
We didn't answer. He threw the gun on the ground and walked over, smacking us both. We cried more. "Understand?!" He growled again. Aidan and I nodded together, holding our baby brother close.
"Now go to your room!" Our father roared, pointing down the hall. We started walking. As we walked by him he spanked us both and we ran until we made it to our room with our baby brother. Joel was still crying. So were we.
That was two years ago. We're eight now, Joel is three. When our father isn't drunk, he doesn't even help us at all. He doesn't cook dinner for us, he doesn't clean anything, we have to try our best to take care of ourselves.
