At the tender age of seven, I became a victim of a tragic incident that tore my world apart. Witnessing the brutal murder of my parents, I was thrust into a life governed by circumstances beyond my control. My uncle, driven by a sense of duty, took...
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My name is Michael. I was only seven years old when I witnessed the brutal murder of my parents. My father was the leader of the notorious Outlaw gang that ruled the streets of the Cape Flats. My mother, unfortunately, was caught up in his destructive lifestyle. She started as his occasional companion, but their relationship took a different turn when she became pregnant with me. He married her, trying to make an honest woman out of her. It may sound like a twisted love story, but the truth is, they were both deeply flawed individuals.
My father never taught me much, except for one ominous lesson: "Live by the streets, die by the streets." And that's exactly what happened. Our home was infiltrated by a horde of gangsters who shot my parents in the head, right in front of me. Little did I know then that this tragic event would shape the rest of my life.
I can't say that my parents were horrible parents; they were just horrible people. But after witnessing countless deaths throughout my short life, I had become somewhat desensitized to such tragedies. I couldn't shed tears or be shocked anymore; it had become my grim reality.
The police were surprisingly kind to me. They brought a lady to speak with me. She reminded me of my friend Raven's mom, albeit with a more weathered appearance. I was hiding under my bed when she knelt down and spoke gently, "Hello, angel. My name is Constable Mary. What is your name?" I stared at her, not intending to say anything. My father had taught me never to talk to the police because once you start talking, you're playing their game.
Constable Mary moved closer to the bed, reassuring me, "I'm with the police. I'm here to help. I won't hurt you." I believed her, but my father's words echoed in my mind. "If anything happens, get under your bed and don't come out until Uncle Franky comes to get you." She sensed my hesitation, and there was a brief exchange between her and another voice. It was Uncle Franky's voice, familiar and comforting.
"I'm her guardian. She's my niece," Uncle Franky asserted. Constable Mary seemed satisfied with his response and sighed in exhaustion. "Okay, let him through. You can try to get her out, but she won't speak or move. You're welcome to try."
Footsteps approached the bed, and I saw Uncle Franky kneeling down, stretching out his hand towards me. "Come, Michael. It's time for us to go." I cautiously moved towards him, grabbing his hand as he pulled me closer. Standing in front of a visibly concerned Constable Mary, she turned to my uncle and said, "I assume you will take custody of Michael and keep her safe?"
My uncle tightened his grip on my hand and looked down at me with annoyance before turning back to Constable Mary. "Yes, ma'am." Constable Mary nodded in approval. "Good, because she's our only witness to what happened here today. We'll need to get a statement from her, and your presence will make it easier."
