Never ends

A gun shot fired, shaking the walls of our beautiful Victorian home,causing a horrible ringing in my ear. My fragile eight year old mind knew exactly what it was.

I slowly began to edge toward my parent's bedroom, knowing only what my imagination had told me to expect. I could only see the the blood and gore coating their expensive sheets and perfectly polished oak furniture.

My heart was pounding and I felt as though I was going to faint. I began to turn the doorknob. The creaking of the door added suspense as I saw my father drenched in blood, leaning over my mother's lifeless body. I began to cry as I saw the all to familiar fear in her beautiful, caring, blue eyes. I quickly stopped when I saw my dad's face. He showed no remorse. I knew I had to get out of there, and fast.

I began to run and even as my body could physically go no further, I still couldn't stop. Even as the sharp pebbles on the side of the road stab into my bare feet sending a jolting pain through my body with every step.