You Are What You Love
Origins.
"We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when, but I know we'll meet again," Johnny Cash sang, his voice full of emotion in one of the last songs he sang before he died. As I gazed around me, I could recognize the bitter irony of it, but couldn't appreciate it.
I gasped, sucking in air too fast and too shallow, and my head started to swim. It could have been the blood splattered across the walls and speckling the ceiling and pooling on the floor. I could feel the trickle against my knees, the current of it flowing out of the body in my arms. Tears stained my face and my lips felt swollen while I chanted my sisters name over and over again.
All around me, my family lay pumped full of bullets and bleeding out on the floor. My sister had been the closest to me from my hiding place in the closet. At seven years old, it seemed like the most sensible place to go when in danger. If there wasn't a bed to hide under, go for the closet.
Eventually, after moving to each of the rooms, finding each of my family members and screaming their names until I had no voice left, the authorities showed up. The first guy in must have been the rookie, because he just rushed right back out, his face ghostly as he called out to someone, "There's a kid standing in there."
After that, a flurry of activity ensued and I was quickly scooped up after a tall man in a uniform wrapped a blanket around my shoulders. Up until this moment, I had been sobbing uncontrollably.
When I found that they were taking me away from my parents, my brothers and my sister, I started to scream. I struggled uselessly in the man’s arms, leaning over his shoulder and shrieking for my mommy to come back, to wrap me in her arms and tell me everything would be fine.
But as the building flooded with people, and I was carried further and further away, I lost sight of my mother, my father, my sister and each of my brothers. Even as a child, I knew that my life had ended, in one way or another.
Nobody would ever be able to honestly tell me everything would be fine again.
I was alone.
I gasped, sucking in air too fast and too shallow, and my head started to swim. It could have been the blood splattered across the walls and speckling the ceiling and pooling on the floor. I could feel the trickle against my knees, the current of it flowing out of the body in my arms. Tears stained my face and my lips felt swollen while I chanted my sisters name over and over again.
All around me, my family lay pumped full of bullets and bleeding out on the floor. My sister had been the closest to me from my hiding place in the closet. At seven years old, it seemed like the most sensible place to go when in danger. If there wasn't a bed to hide under, go for the closet.
Eventually, after moving to each of the rooms, finding each of my family members and screaming their names until I had no voice left, the authorities showed up. The first guy in must have been the rookie, because he just rushed right back out, his face ghostly as he called out to someone, "There's a kid standing in there."
After that, a flurry of activity ensued and I was quickly scooped up after a tall man in a uniform wrapped a blanket around my shoulders. Up until this moment, I had been sobbing uncontrollably.
When I found that they were taking me away from my parents, my brothers and my sister, I started to scream. I struggled uselessly in the man’s arms, leaning over his shoulder and shrieking for my mommy to come back, to wrap me in her arms and tell me everything would be fine.
But as the building flooded with people, and I was carried further and further away, I lost sight of my mother, my father, my sister and each of my brothers. Even as a child, I knew that my life had ended, in one way or another.
Nobody would ever be able to honestly tell me everything would be fine again.
I was alone.
♠ ♠ ♠
-shockedface.Millie actually updated?
LOLWUT?!
Now please, show your appreciation.
;D