My Childhood

Losing Mom

When I set my favorite sweater on the broken chair I seen Dad holding another full bottle of strong booze in his big manly hands and Mom holding a sharp knife in her shaking hands. There were giant tears in Mom's dull eyes as her quivering bottom lip was really swollen and gushing dark red blood all over here blue sweater that she loved.
"Mom!" My aweful scream echoed through the almost empty house; Mom just tried to stay completely still. Dad unsteadily stood up and walked toward me, I rapidly ran into the old kitchen and grabbed the crappy landline phone. Dialing 911 as fast as I could I grabbed a steak knife. He held still, as well as he could anyway. Then he accidentally stumbled backwards, tripping over a wooden chair. I fastly screamed into the nasty phone what had happened over the past couple of abusive years of my childhood. He grabbed Mom and knocked her large knife out of her tired hands. Dad pulled out a black gun from his blue back pocket. Mom and I nearly froze in fear, Dad walked closer to me with frightened Mom in his tight arm.
"Why the fuck did you call the police!? Do you want to live without a dad?! You fucking dumb bitch!" The screams ringed in my numb ears as rivers of stinging tears ran down my joyless face.
"Fuck you! I would rather not have a father than have a drunk," I yelled in Dad's lousy face. Mom just tried to stay as calm as she could; I could see the panic in her joyless eyes. The rushing police finally showed up but when they busted through the sound proof door Dad hysterically turned around.
BANG! The trigger on Dad's gun was pulled. Hot blood poured from the right side of Mom's pale head. He then quickly turned toward me and shot the smoking gun. The last thing I remembered was the look of death on Mom's pale face and the blood curling sound of police gun shots. Everything soon turned black and I heard the sound of rushing water, I thought this was the end and then knew I was right when I smelt the odor of copper and rust. This was going to be the end of my childhood. It ended before I could tell him I loved him; he wouldn't love me anyway.... I knew he faked caring about me. He probably doesn't even care that I died... Am I dead?!