The New Struggle

Back story

It's 3 a.m. and I'm already awake. Unfortunately going to bed later won't help cure my urges to wake up. I throw my covers off me then swing my legs over the edge of the small bed. I've only lived here for a while alone, but it's still so different without my parents. I slowly walk to the corner of the room where I have hung a mirror. I smooth my hands over my face, feeling every detail. I definitely look more like my mother. Small nose, large brown eyes, and what used to be blond hair. Before my parent’s death I decided I looked too much like my mother and tried to dye a strip of my hair purple. Unfortunately, I was trying to do it the night my parents died and spilled the dye all over my head. Later I also found out that the purple dye turned blue when it dries. But more like my father, I liked to run. So I get dressed and head out. My mind is flooded with thoughts of that night.

Small and fragile she dances around the room. Although she is almost 16 she is young looking. In their one room apartment she has it all. She might not be the most up to date girl, but she is happy enough. The father is outside by the fire they make every night; the mother is getting ready to give her little girl the birthday present she always wanted. Little did she know it would be her last. The girl dances over and slowly applies the hair dye. Soon both of them hear a yelp from outside. They both decided that the father had gotten another ash caught in his eye. The mother takes a wet wash cloth outside and leaves the almost 16-year-old girl alone in the house. The girl continues to dye her hair, but then decided that it is taking too long. So she slowly starts to tip the cup of dye over the area that she will dye. Just as she does this their front door is kicked open. The girl jumps suddenly and drops the cup of dye on her head. As she faces the door her jaw drops when she sees the man standing there. The man wore all black and held a gun pointed straight at her.
“Hands behind your head,” yelled the man. The girl was in so much shock she didn't move. “Where are your valuables?” the man asked. The girl pointed to the bed. The man quickly tore the bedding off and searched under it. “There’s nothing here!!” he screamed. The girl quickly ran over, the dye flowing don her head and handed him the box her parents gave her 3 years ago.
“T-this is a-all we have.” she stammered. The man violently grabbed the box from her and ran out the door. The girl quickly grabbed a towel and ran outside. She threw the towel over her head trying to get the dye out. But more importantly she was looking for her parents. As she looks around frantically, she finally sports them. She is struck by shock, rage, and fear all at once. As she walks over to the crackling campfire, she notices all that’s left of her parents was her mom’s charm bracelet and her father’s wallet. She slowly picks them up and screams, tears flooding her eyes.

That image in my mind was enough to stop me from thinking of the horrid memory. As I enter the house again I ensure to lock all three locks on the door, after that I head for my bed. I never did find my parents, it was just easier to cope, telling myself they were dead. As I crawl into bed I pull the picture of my parents off the nightstand and lay it next to me. As a single tear slips down my cheek I slip into a restless sleep, hoping that when I wake up my parents will be home.