Broken Silence

Prologue

Eight Years Ago

It was too much for an eight-year-old.

I was playing with Mommy in the living room, and we were laughing at Daddy's constant reminders to 'lower our voices' and that we were going to 'bother the neighbors'. Meanwhile, he cooked us dinner; he had told me that he wanted to do something special for Mommy, but it was their anniversary, so I had to keep it a secret.

I was just eight years old; I didn't know right from wrong. I didn't have a care in the world.

The doorbell rang, and Mommy stood up so that she could answer it. My eyes were on my dad, who was peeking from the kitchen asking who was at the door; I looked at Mommy expecting an answer. She opened the door and, suddenly, she was on the floor. My dad came out, and he ran towards me. He screamed Mommy's name.

A man approached her and took out a gun, like the one Daddy used to hunt. There were loud bangs and Mommy fell to the ground, the bad man was firing bullets into her chest and head many times. I shrieked at the sight while Daddy grabbed me and ran into the kitchen; the man followed us, shouting at Daddy something in another language I didn't understand. I heard the faint clicking of the gun. Daddy quickly put me inside the cabinet, saying "Cover your mouth." as he closed the door. I did as Daddy said and looked through the crack the counter door left.

The man came into the room. He was tall and wide, and he was dressed in all black. He spoke to Daddy; this time I understood what he was saying.

"Where is the lovely child, Robert?" the man said in a thick voice. But Daddy said nothing. I was sobbing now; covering my mouth so that nothing could be heard. The man laughed harshly, pointed the gun at Daddy, and said, "Answer me, Robert." Tears ran down my cheeks. I quickly wiped them away and covered my mouth again.

"You won't ever get your hands on her," Daddy said. He had just the opportunity to throw a kitchen knife when the man fired at him. He slid down the counter and fell, his face facing me. I swallowed my scream and stared at the boots of the man when he kicked Daddy's face while laughing.

No, No, No! This is just a dream, a really bad dream. Wake up. Wake Up. Please, wake up!

Blood dripped down the walls, both Daddy's and Mommy's. I could see her bloody hand through the crack and the wall. Some blood had come through the crack, splattering on my face. I wiped it with my hand. It was shaking so bad. Suddenly, the man began to quietly whistle a tune. He walked around the kitchen, while saying something like "claines midchen". I bit my lips and stared at Daddy's face.

His eyes were wide open. His mouth slightly hanging and crooked in a way I had never seen before. Two holes in his face. My heart beat faster, and I felt dizzy. The footsteps of the bad man faded away. Not completely but enough.

I opened the counter's door and sprinted to the front door. I heard the bad man's loud footsteps draw close to me. I tried to run faster. I stepped over the body of my Mommy, her body covered with bullet holes and blood. My hands were sweating. I almost slipped with one of the steps. I was surprisingly faster than the man; either that or he had given up.

"Help! Help!" I screamed. I couldn't go back there. The scene kept repeating in my head. The shots, so much blood, my parent's cold, dead bodies on the floor.

I had to run.

No looking back.

Just run!

Run!

Run away from the blood!

Away from the bad man!

It was too much. It was too much. Too much...