Bottled Up

£1 -Intro

Everything was all good at first... The perfect life for a 5 year old. The toys. The sleepovers. The loving parents. But you know all good things have to come to an end. You just never really see it coming though. You expect everything to be the same for the rest of your life. I realized that the hard way. You expect to see your parents grow old after raising you from the angel of a little girl to a successful woman with a family. To make sure that your parents see all of their grandchildren, maybe even great grandchildren. I found out that's not always the case.

My parents were murdered before my eyes when I was five years old... Five. Traumatic experience huh? Most would expect you to be all sad and depressed, but how could I have been? I expected my mommy and daddy to get up. But when they didn't, I thought maybe they'll wake up later, give them a little time and they'll be up. I knew they wouldn't be gone. They wouldn't leave me. You wouldn't just expect a five year old to understand that their mommy and daddy are gone forever, not coming back, just left her here with no one. No. That's not how a five year olds brain works. What does death to them mean?

The sound of the gun being cocked May interest them, and the sound of the gun may frighten them. Frighten them enough to close their eyes in enough to miss the bullet hitting the mom in the forehead. The smoke from the gun being shot may make them open their curious eyes in enough time to see the second bullet going through their daddy's head. But what goes through their heads when they see the stuff come from the back of daddy's head? The blood.

Or maybe a five year old does realize what is happening when everything goes down. Maybe not completely, but maybe they have an idea. Maybe that's why they cry and run to their parents. Yeah, maybe that's it. Like when you scraped your knee after falling off your bike and you ran to your mom. She seen the blood and put the band aid on. Took care of you when you're hurt. You're supposed to take care of mommy and daddy the same way right? Except there's a problem... How do you find the right band aid to fix the backs of their heads? There isn't one so you hold them like they did when your best friend had to move away and you were sad. But your little arms aren't big enough to hold both of them, you can barely hold mommy. You just can't seem to be old enough for anything.

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Tuesday, May 17. 2002

Mommy and I had just gotten done going to walmart to pick out some new fingernail polish colors. I had picked out a cotton candy pink color. I got it to go with my new dress that I was wearing to school tomorrow. Daddy said the dress was a gift for getting all pluses on my Friday folder. It was hanging in up in my closet with the rest of my dresses. Mommy had picked out a green-blue color. She even said that I could paint her hands! Everything we needed for decorating our nails was already set out before we got home. I knew that Jolie had set it up. She sets everything up for us. She cooks our food and cleans the house. She's our maid and she's my nanny sometimes.

Daddy was in his office on the phone while mommy and me put on our robes and got our flip flops. It was girls night with me and mommy. We were all ready to start. I decided to paint mommys nails first. The radio played in the back. I forget what song was playing, but mommy was singing along to it.

"Mommy do you like your nails?" I asked with the fattest smile on my face. I thought I did pretty well for a first timer.

She looked at her nails and gave off a smile just as big as mine. "Of course I do!! They look so pretty! You did such a good job!"

"Really?" I thought the color looked nice against her skin tone. The same skin tone that I took after.

"Most definitely!! Now I just have to wait for them to dry so you can decorate them."