The Broken Girl

1

My name is Savannah, I live in California, and when I was eleven years old my father killed my mother.

Before we get to that, we have to start at the beginning.

The year 1999.

It was early December and the weather was freezing outside. It was the kind of weather where it feels like your blood is actually going to freeze and all you want to do is stay inside and huddle around the fireplace with your family. I was not actually there, yet, so I just have to go by what these born and raised Californians (who think that sixty degrees is cold) said it was.

My mother was not allowed to enjoy the luxury of a warm fire, she was too busy going through 26 hours of labor, only to be rushed into an emergency C-section where I was finally delivered. As she was becoming a mother, her own was taking her last breath.

She didn't even know. 

When I came into this world my family was full of grief. I became a distraction from their sadness, a way for them to deal with the death of someone who was so important to our family.

She was a mother of three girls, my mother and her two older sisters. My grandmother was also the backbone of the household while my grandfather was away at work all day and night. She had developed heart failure towards the end which ultimately lead to her passing on that December day.

She suffered from so much more than problems going on with her heart that she eventually did pass down, but we will get to that later.

The day I came into this world was not only a day of welcoming and rejoice, but it was also a day of sorrow and goodbyes.

That day was the beginning of the end, and no one could see what was coming.

Mom, I would give up anything just to be with you one more time.