Kinda quiet in here
I need to cry…
when I was 6, I saw a bullet fly through my father's head as he sat at the dinner table. The loud shot and seeing blood suddenly flying out of my fathers new orifices scared the shit out of me. I dropped my dinner plate and closed my eyes and covered my ears because I didn't want to see any more and all I could hear was screams of terror and confusion from around the house. Not sure what to do my instincts told me to open my eyes and assess the situation. I was hesitant but still opened them, just in time to watch another bullet to fly through my fathers head. I went brain dead.
All I could do was stare. Stare at my fathers bloody body swaying around in his chair, writhing in pain when suddenly he stopped figiting and just slumped over mere feet in front of me. A pool of blood began creeping towards me. After what seemed like 5 seconds after the first shot my mother rushed over to my father. She tried lifting his head and placing it in her lap and taping him to wake him. She tried talking to him, "Honey, are you ok? Honey?" She realized my father had already left his body. Then she realized I was standing 8 feet away, just watching everything transpire.
"Run" she said. "Run across the street to the neighbors house and stay there." But I just watched. She said to run again and I finally did so. I took the most direct route towards the front door. Just as I turned the corner another shot blasted and a bullet flew by me and shattered a glass door behind where my father and mother were. I jumped back to where I was standing, front row seats. Only this time, well, I can't remember.
I can't remember what happened next. I don't know how it happened. I'm told by a brother of mine recently that I was just standing there. Staring at my mother, father, and my 2nd oldest brother choking on his own blood, laying right next to where my mother and father were. I'm guessing when I turned the corner to run, my 2nd oldest brother ran to the phone and dial 9-1-1. Just. When that other bullet flew over my head and shattered the glass door, the shattered glass must have hit my 2nd oldest brothers neck. Again, I was just staring. Again, I can't remember any of it. Thats when that same brother picked me up and set me aside out of view of the dead bodies and told me to run. So I did
This I remember. I ran to the front door just after my babysitter ran out from the hallway. She opened the door, ran outside, and slammed it shut and wouldnt let me open it. I banged on the door, desperately crying to let me out, that I'm scared. But no response. Then the door opens.
My babysitter reached for me and shushed me as she pulled me outside and whispered, "run across the street, go!" So I ran across the street, wondering why my eldest brother's truck was peeling out and taking off into the night. I got to my neighbor's front door, across the street, and knocked to no avail. Nobody was answering. Nothing. Seconds later the door opened and I was pulled in the house and placed behind a knee wall for safety, again wondering. Why was my sister and nephew already here? What's going on?
Here I am now, half way through my life. Struggling to survive and still wondering why everything happened.
Mind you, the next time I cried after this incident was after I was getting punch drunk in dive bars. The night didnt end there, it just got calmer. After a couple of hours sitting there with my nephew and sister, watching them cry, my mother knocked. My neighbor being cautious, he went to the door and peeped out. He slowly opened the door and there was my mother. Standing there. Asking if her children were there. We 3 ran out and latched on to my mother. She ushured us back straight into the family car. We were going to the police station.
Still numb from what happened I sat down in a chair in the lobby and looked around. My mother was there, ok. My other siblings were there, ok, except 1. "Where's Mondo?" I asked. "Don't you remember? You were staring straight at him!" I sat quietly a moment before asking, "where's daddy?"