The name is Enzo and this is the story of the End.
I was born on October 9th, 1999 in Manhattan. My mother's name was Heather and I heard that my father's name is Leonardo, although I never met him and do not know much about him. However, I do know my father wanted my mother to abort me but she decided to let me live and have a life, even if it meant that her's would become more difficult as she had hope that it would all turn out alright.
Things were going pretty good for my mom and I at first. She worked as a cashier at the closest supermarket to our house, which was about 2 miles away. She would always leave food on the table for the mornings and for later at night so that we may both eat even though most nights we did not have enough money for both of us to eat. When that would happen she would split the food.
By my 7th birthday she became very depressed and she would end up coming home very late at night, sometimes she would even arrive the next day. She began thinking how it would have been if my father were still here, if things would have been easier for us. I tried to help out as much as I could even though I couldn't do much do to my age.
On my 8th birthday my father sent me a letter about how he wish that I were dead, as I caused his life to collapse into ruins and debris. A few days after I received the letter in which my father sent me, my mother fell into the hell of drugs.
A year after she became hooked onto drugs and she became very aggressive I told my counselor at school, Mr. Baldwin, what had been occurring to my mother and he told me that he would like to have a conference with the both of us. Later that day, I came home and asked my mother if she would could come to school with me the next morning. As I was speaking she slowly turned and looked me dead in the eye. She said these words "Fuck you! Can you not see that I am busy watching my fucking television?!". My eyes began to tear up but I tried to hold in the river that would begin to flow soon enough. I couldn't hold it back, it was as if my eye lids were a damaged dam and it couldn't hold back the water, the tears came running down my face.
My mother was staring down at my tear as it was rolling down my cheeks until it fell onto the cold and wooden floor. As soon it touched the surface my mother stood up from our dusty couch as she said "You wanna cry? Then I'll make sure you fucking cry!". I quickly turned and began sprinting towards my room as fast as possible, but since I was a child she caught up to me. She grabbed the back of my navy blue sweater, threw my head against the end of my bed, and closed the door behind her. She then bestowed pain upon me.
This was the first time she beat me.
The next morning when I awoke all I could see were the jagged lines that covered my bedroom door. I lifted my head up from my pillow as I was asking myself, "Should I stay home so that the kids don't bother me or should I go to school in case she comes upstairs again?". I then decided to go to school as the fear of getting beat again was greater than the fear of getting asked questions. I stood from my bed, still shaking from the event that had occurred last night, to get dressed. After I went through my morning routine I looked into my mother's room. She was knocked out as if she come home from a boxing match. Due to last nights events I did not have an appetite so I opened the front door and walked to school.
After a chilling and stressful walk, I got to my school, Jefferson Elementary, and the counselor asked me if my mother had come along with me today. I looked at him in the eyes wanting to tell him what had happened but I was scared of what might occur if I did. With teary eyes I began to run past the school gates, and into the woods that were near. I didn't look back, nor did I want to as I felt as if everything were collapsing, as if all hope had been lost. The school's security guards were called over the radio's and so they began to look for me in the woods.
I sat down under a blossoming tree trying to contemplate what I should do with my self after a year of loneliness and separation of all things good. The security guards found me while crying and asked me to please return back to school grounds. I gave no answer, but eventually stood up and followed behind them to head towards the school. The schools principle told me to report to my classroom as so I did.
I walked into Ms. Jackson's class covered in grass and dirt from the grounds that comfort me. As I stepped foot into the room all the children turned with their eyes wide open. While in motion to sit on my chair the teacher pulled me out of class to talk. She opened the door and I immediately said, "I swear, I didn't do anything!". Then she replied back in a soft voice, "Everything is alright." and she gave me a big hug. A tear slowly slid down my left eye but before it could fall onto the floor she dragged her thumb down my cheek. I felt a sense of closure and of hope, a sense that I have forgotten about, as she held me in her dear arms.
Days passed, and my mother got worse, but I got better. Ms. Jackson told me that I would be able to go over her home anytime that I pleased. I took advantage of that generous offer and began to go to her house everyday after school. Whenever I would go over she would hug me, give me kisses, cook me spectacular dishes, help me with my homework, teach me how to write in cursive, we would watch movies together, and talk about everything that would cross my mind. She became the mother I had dreamed of having.
For the first time in a long time, I was sobbing. But these tears were different, as these were tears of joy.
Months passed by and my 10th birthday rolled in. While my mother was passed out on the living room couch I grabbed a bag, a couple of clothes, and my bathroom necessities. I ran outside to call Ms. Jackson so that she may pick me up from my mother's house. My plan was to stay and sleep over her house for as long as I could. She pulled up in a Honda Civic, opened her door, and told me to hop in. I had a huge smile that went across my face as I knew that I would spend my birthday with her by my side. While driving, Ms. Jackson said that she had a surprise for me at her home. A couple of minutes later, we arrived at her gorgeous two story, blue house. She opened the front door and she had cake, balloons, and a truck load of wrapped up presents!
I looked at all the things in front of me in awe. I turned to her, and began hugging her. I said to her "Thank you, you saved my life." but she replied saying "No, thank you Enzo, you gave me hope, you showed me that there is something worth fighting for in life.". This time, I shed a tear of happiness, but I did't cry on my own as Ms. Jackson fell and cried along with me. We began eating the creamy cheesecake which she had bought me, but as we were eating she got a phone call. She grabbed the phone, went to the back room, and began speaking. When it was over she told me that we had to go somewhere. I happily said okay and we were on our way. For some reason she was quiet during the ride, it began to make me feel worried. When she stopped the car, I looked out my window and we were at the police department.
I looked to her and asked her why we were at the police station but she told me that it was going to be alright. I followed along nervously as she opened the door, we entered the sheriff's office and Sheriff Faye asked me to sit down. He looked at me with a face as blue as the deepest parts of the ocean while saying "Son, this may be difficult to understand but I just got word that something has happened to your parents. Um..your mother was murdered....by your father. After your father did this he killed himself as well. I'm so sorry.". I didn't know what to say to this as my mother hated me and as my father wanted me dead. For some reason I still loved my parents uncontrollably. I began to cry in the arms of Sheriff Faye.
After a couple of minutes of me dropping tears, they left me alone in his office for me to contemplate what had just occurred. Later, I opened the office door, turned to Ms. Jackson and Sheriff Faye while saying "Since I don't have any more family....who is going to take care of me?". She looked me in the eyes, turned to Sheriff Faye while saying "I'll take care of him" and he replied with a graceful yes. Ms. Jackson told me to call her Mary or anything else I felt comfortable calling her. She then explained to Sheriff Faye that she had been taking care of me for a while and that she looked at me as her own. She signed all the necessary papers and I officially became her son. Finally, she and I changed my last name from "Smith" to "Jackson". I moved everything that was mine over to her house and so I begun living with her.
My name is Enzo Jackson. This is the beginning of my journey.
