Mindful Fear

Chapter 1-

I look around, the white walls glaring back. Sorrow is heavy in the air, my sister Hannah, who is 7, clings to my mother. I walk up to the casket and look at the pale dead face of my sweet father. He doesn't look peaceful to me, not at all. People are sniffling, tissues clenched in hands. No tears fell from my eyes that day, even shock was too bland a word to describe how deeply putrid and empty I felt.

After we return home I go to my room and sit on my bed, my knees pulled close to me and my chin on my knees. My house felt wrong, no longer my own. Life was flipped over. My mom barely left her room, and poor Hannah was always left to feel the pain. I try to fill the places for her, but we both know it does work. She doesn't know how he died, thank The Lord, but she knows all the same the man that used to sweep her from her feet each and every day was no longer going to do that, the Dad that tucked her in, made her favorite sandwich, taught her to ride a bike, would no longer be there. I felt the sorrow for both of us. He had been special to me, In a sense I was a 'Daddy's Girl' through and through. No doubt in anyone's eyes. I missed his cologne, the way he tried to make everyone smile. I remember how we were always in the basement, building things. And what truly hurt was that no longer would there be two of us working on anything, but just me. My heart was cold, my soul screaming. I lay on my bed, thinking, trying to get it all out of my head. Yet, one thing bothered me most of all, his death.

The garage still smelled of gunpowder. There was still a chip in the wall from the bullet. My father had been picking up cans, on his knees, when a person had pressed the muzzle of a pistol to the back of his skull and had ended his life within seconds. The Bullet had gone right through, exiting his left eye, and stuck into the wall, chipping into the concrete. Only my mother had been home at the time, no one else. I had been in school when someone called. I had torn from the building and ran down the sidewalk, the soles of my boots thudding loudly. I had ran all the way to my house, where I collapsed in tears. My mother was silent, sitting in her room, saying nothing. Hannah was crying silently. From that day on I have questioned all of it, not wanting to believe. Yet, no matter how much I wanted to curl up and sleep forever, I had my sister to take care of. My mother was like a walking corpse, unable and unwilling to do anything. It was scary to see.

Would I not have my mom, either? I didn't want to think about any of it. I take a Valium from the kitchen, lay in my bed clutching the picture frame of my father and I, and fell heavily asleep, yet only for a few hours. Nightmares filled the sleep.