MASKED

CHAPTER 1

A DARK NIGHT

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HORRIFIED, AFRAID, AND CONFUSED are all words I would use to describe how I felt that night, that horrific night. 2 years have passed since then. I was 36 years old on the date of July 15, 2013. My son, James, was 16 during the time and often played video games like Call of Duty and Halo. I didn't really like the "shooting" games but I allowed James to play them because he got good grades in school. He was a very quiet kid. The only friend he had was a kid across the street named Henry. They played together since they were in elementary school up until then.

One night I was coming home from my night shift. On the way back from work I went to the convenience store to go get some necessity that we were running out of. When I got back home I opened the door with the grocery bags in my hands. My husband David was out doing god knows what again so, I knew he wasn't home. James was home alone that night. I knew there were many groceries in the car so I called out to my son James to come help me put away the bags. I heard no response and realized that it was very quiet. I assumed that my son was playing video games with his headphones on. So I didn't waste my time going up stairs to tell him so I just continued to put away the food.

Once I finished putting away the bags, I headed up the stairs to go talk to James. I opened the door to his room to see that the lights were off, so I assumed that he was asleep in his bed. I looked over at his bed to see a lump under the sheets. I walked over to the bed to shake James awake to tell him that I wasn't going to be there in the morning when he woke up but when I went to touch him he was freezing. I shook him and he didn't wake up. I flipped the cover so that I could see him but when I did I wouldn't because the lights were off. I pulled the plug for the lamp near his bed. He was dead. Cold, numb, and dead. I looked into his blank eyes and saw nothing. Nothing at all. Not the little boy I cared and raised for the past 16 years. Not the caring little boy I knew and loved. I try to use words to describe how I felt but they will never fully express my heartache and pain. Very soon afterwards my feelings of sadness faded away into a gut-wrenching despair. A feeling you could never escape, no matter how hard you try to run. I slowly looked up to see a masked man with a gun in his hand looking down at me and my son. I couldn't move. I was paralyzed in a moment of fear and unknowingness.

Something inside of me made me run like hell down the stairs and out the door. My heart was pumping out of my chest like it was going to explode. I quickly scrambled for my phone and dialed 911. I heard a calm voice on the line say, "Hello, this is 911. What is your emergency?" I quickly respond and try to tell her the situation but I am interrupted by her telling me to calm down. I loudly say, partially screaming, " I am calm!" The operator replied, " Okay ma'am please take a deep breath." I slowly breathe in and out feeling slightly calmer. In my state of awareness I looked down at my hand to realize that I was shaking. I touched my cheek to feel wet tears dripping down my face. My adrenaline was pumping so rapidly that I didn't even notice that I was crying. I hear the sound of a car behind me so I turn around to see my husband's car. I quickly run to him as he is getting out of the car with his bags. "W-what happened Charlotte?" he replied with a slight shock in his tone due to my distressed appearance. "Our son is dead!" I said with pain in my voice. At that moment he had a dumb founded look on his face and turn to look at me "What?"