playdead

Chapter One

Thunder and lightning struck everywhere amongst the storm, surrounding the town of Reno, Nevada. A young Simon Sanchez looked out his window. The soft tapping of the rain soothed him.

At this point in time, Simon had only been 7 years old. His parents didn't love each other after he was born. Or? Some other adult reason he didn't understand yet.

Simon heard arguing downstairs. Same time as yesterday apparently. Their voices raised and lowered, like a roller coaster.

Roller coaster.

Simon remembered the times he had with his parents. At Disneyland. Not that far away from where he lived.

Simon was desperate.

Not for anything like a new Transformers toy from Toys R' Us, no. He wanted something else. Something his tiny and undeveloped mind couldn't help explaining in the worst possible way.

The rain moved trees and crashed down on the dirt and grass outside. It was night time. Saturday, 8:44. Simon was supposed to be in bed by then.

His parents voices started getting higher and higher until they were below screaming at each other. Simon was scared. He was scared for no reason.

Perhaps he was scared of his father. Or his mother. Or both.

He thinks too much. He needs a break.

Simon laid down on his bed. Listened to the rain's pitter-patter melody. It was calming.

Simon had heard his mom tell him that his father had "anger problems."
Whatever that was.

BOOM!

A sound, a horrible sound. Louder than the thunder and lightening outside. That couldn't be what he thought it was.

In fact, it was. It was exactly what it was. His father, Jack E. Sanchez, convicted of murder/manslaughter, stood downstairs, in awe and amazement and fear.

He stared.

Simon stared at the door.
He ran and locked it.
And went back to his bed, hid, hid away from fear and anger and nightmares.

The argument stopped. Right after the big boom, the argument stopped.

Simon cried. He cried and cried for so long until his eyes were tired of crying.
He fought the urge to run. Run away and never come back.

Where would he go? Nowhere.

He was seven. A seven year old couldn't do anything on his or her own.

Bright, almost blinding red and blue lights shined outside like miniature suns. The police asked Simon to open the door, so he did. The officer reassured
Simon that was okay. That no one will hurt you.

No one? Not even myself?

The officer smiled. Simon dryly smiled back. He was picked up and taken to a police car. Before, he saw his mother.
Laying on the ground.

Mommy? Mommy! Mommy! Why isn't she listening?!

You're fine. You're okay. Calm down.