Deteriorate

Prologue

*(A/N) If you have lost someone close to you, this may be hard to read.

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/dəˈtirēəˌrāt/

verb

1. become progressively worse.

2. Jason's life.

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One thing you can't hide - is when you're crippled inside.

- John Lennon

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Jason POV

"Jason! Get in the house now!" My father yelled. He was pinned down to the ground on his stomach, in our front yard, by a man in a black ski mask who was sitting on him and pointing a gun to his head. The man was tall, about 6'2, and was fat. That was my best description of him. All of our neighbors were either hiding in their houses or were brave to stand in their front yards, staring in my father's direction with a hand over their mouths, in fear.

I stood there, in my front yard, unable to move. I knew I should have tried to help my father but I couldn't. That was what happened when I got scared. I locked up.

"Jason!" My mother screamed. I could tell she was crying. She was standing on the front porch, gripping the railing.

"I'm gonna shoot you, you son of a-" the man started to say in a deep gruff voice. He was pressing the gun against my father's temple with so much force, I was afraid he would break through the skin.

"Put the gun down." I heard a deep voice coming closer behind me. It was a cop.

I turned to look and as I turned, I heard a deafening gunshot.

NO, I thought. He can't be gone. No, no, no. I gulped, holding back tears. Afraid, I turned to look at my father. Sure enough, he was laying on the ground, not moving at all. The guy who had shot him, ran down the sidewalk, cops chasing after him. People were screaming and jumping out of the way, afraid they'd get shot, too.

"DAD!" I yelled. I ran to his side. He was face down in the grass so I flipped him over gently. There was a huge gun wound in his head, blood gushing out. His eyes were open, and he was staring at me in pain.

How are you still alive? I thought.

"Jason..." He gasped. He was shaking badly.

"I'm here." I said in a strained voice.

"Jason...take care of your mother. And t-take care of your...self." He struggled to speak and his words only came out in a raspy whisper. "I love you so much, son." Then he went limp in my arms.

"Dad. No. Don't go! I love you! Don't go, dad!" I whispered. It was no use. He was gone.

Why? Why did this have to happen?

His eyes remained open staring up at the blue sky, so I closed them gently with my fingers and laid him down on the grass carefully before I ran to the porch steps into my mother's arms. She gripped me tightly as she began to wail loudly. A paramedic rubbed her shoulders and whispered, "It's okay." Over and over again. But it wasn't okay. My father was gone. He fought so hard to protect us and now he was gone.

I started to cry silently so nobody could hear me. I felt so helpless. My life was about to take a turn. A turn for the worse.

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