It's been three years. Three full years since I watched my mom die. Since I saw the light leave her eyes, the blood run down her face. Hear her sweet voice. The reason you ask?
I killed her.
Now I'm not psychotic, but it was either that or getting shot. I mean with the mother that beats you everyday and everyday threatens to kill you, finally gets the guts to hold a gun to your little sisters head; would you just sit and watch your sister die? What happens if your next? Hmm? What if you were the main target and the younger sibling was just for fun? Would you fight for the gun and make the move or die?
You take your pick.
After the police showed up and saved my twin sister and I they found out the cold truth. Our mother beating us. It wasn't the normal beating most kids go through, nah this was worse. Learning to stitch up your own cuts, knowing how to fix a dislocated shoulder.... all the above. They saw the scars that I had once written off as being clumsy. The saw the fresh bruises and worst of all they saw the Room.
The room was a place that I was punished. If your going to hurt a kid that bad you need a room to hide all the tools and not to mention the blood.
The police found the gun and I didn't get blamed. I was a minor, but saving your life as well as others; I got of scotch-free.
I remember that night clearly as if it happened yesterday. I was the oldest; only a few hours older than my sister but I thought of that as years. The youngest in the family; my other younger sister was spending the night at our grandparents, so she wasn't hurt or involved. She wasn't there when the gun was fired.
I sat there holding my sister terrified that I was going to get locked up. The sirens were screaming, people yelling when a policeman crouched down infront of us. I started shaking and he started talking.
He smiled out me "Miss Wen, we don't blame you. You saved your sisters lives. Since your cousin is of age and has already accepted to take you three in. The only drawback is you'll have to move to New Hampshire. Is that alright with you?"
I smiled in relief and looked at my sister. She nodded at me and I looked back up at the officer.
"Yes, just let us get packed."
After the funeral, I waited for everyone to get back home. I didn't go. She hit me the most. Why should I go? To tell her to go to Hell? To cry over her? To waste my tears? I already said that once. She just laughed and said I would be there with her. As I waited for everyone to get back I grabbed the cookies out of the oven and put all the dishes on the island and went back upstairs. I went back into my room to fix my hair.
It's naturally curly so I just bobby pinned a couple stands back. I slip on my black flats and arrived back downstairs to get everyone in. I had turned the heat up in the house because of all the cold. Instead of everyone talking about her, we talked about random things. After everyone enjoyed cookies and coffee they drifted off. The last ones to stay were our grandparents.
After they apologised for not knowing they left and we were finally alone. After all three of us cleaned up and ate the rest of the cookies we all went up the stairs and changed. We have all slept in the same bed since it happened because of the nightmares. Tomorrow we are leaving for New Hampshire to be with loved ones.
So as I tell you my story, with you listening.
So I will ask this question again, with me looking you in the eye.
If it was you with that gun in your hand, protecting your loved ones you would pull that trigger too?
Or wouldn't you?
