Pressure: The Making of Diamond

Prologue

              The rain is pouring especially hard tonight creating a sense of uneasiness in the household.  Mother has been tucked away in the study doing God knows what while Father is out on a business trip in Mexico, "handling grown folk business" as he put it.  As I watch the rain pelt down and onto the window I overhear a pummeling at the door; it is also a quarter past twelve in the morning – well past my bedtime and an unacceptable time for anyone to be beating at our door.          
            Sneaking down the corridor to spy had become a specialty of mine, staying up late at night to catch my father leaving or my mother drinking away her problems.  I creep ever so slowly while pressing my back against the dark colored walls in order to keep my cover, making my way around the corner just before the living area, at the same time my mother goes to grab the pistol that I knew father stashed away for emergencies.  Mother's small  frame moves to open the door which beholds a man, from what I could make out due to the luminescence of the moon. Words so softly spoken flowed between the two - nothing interesting... I make my way back to my bedroom.
              Struggle.  Click.  Bang!  I yelp at the sudden loudness, big mistake.  "Shit!" I hear the man hiss and instantly he makes his way to round the corner, towards me with heavy, determined steps.  Without hesitation I take off running through the house searching for a place to hide, as I make a sharp turn towards the study I feel something hot whizz through my ear.  Shocked by the searing  pain I drop to the floor.
            Suddenly I was grabbed by my hair and I began kicking and screaming, I refused to go down without a fight.
           "Shut the fuck up or I will give you something to scream for!" His rugged voice didn't calm me in the slightest causing him to thrust me straight into the doors of the study.  My chance had arrived, scrambling to my feet I sprint to the desk and tuck myself beneath it. Rapid thumping could be heard all around, my heart, his boots, the rain – all thumping in sync.  It is suddenly quiet throughout the room and all is still.  Until a hand wraps around my ankle and my screams rip through the air, just as I am pulled to my doom my eyes catch the sparkle of yet another hidden gun and I grab at it.
             The man yanks me fully from the desk before I can grip the pistol and before I know it I am losing air as he throttles me mercilessly.  I grab and scratch and slap but to no avail, I'm helpless.  As my eyes roll to the back of my head I spot the vase I had gotten my mother for Valentines Day – she wouldn't miss it.  With the last of my energy I swipe the vase from the desk and bash it against his head; stunned, he drops me and I fall to the floor, vase still in hand.
            I do my best to catch my breath and stand to face his back, while I have the chance I rush at him at top speed and swing the vase to and fro targeting his head, he then falls unconscious.  Blind rage washes over me as I continue to hit him, blood paints my face and seeps through the floor boards as I bash the man's head in until the vase finally breaks and there is nothing left to do but cry; cry for me, for the man, and for my mother.

This was the first day of the rest of my life.

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"Our Father who is in heaven,
Hallowed be Your name..." –Matthew 6: 9-13

          The funeral had been beautiful, all the people I loved most were in attendance; my father, my fathers brother, and my grandad along with my friends Dahlia and Ivory.

           Mother's family had always been a mystery to me and I didn't care too much to find out about them, they obviously weren't worth the search if they hadn't shown to their own blood's funeral. 
Only days had passed since her death took place and I had not been feeling like me, things that once gave me joy no longer had that effect and things that used to sadden me I found myself to be desensitized to. 

             It's almost as if I'd become new, reborn even.