After my sister trekked into the night over to our cousins house two houses away, I followed suit with my little brother all bundled up in my arms but after first peeking down the stairwell to pin point my father's whereabouts. He didn't seem to be around, so I hurried through the front door. As soon as I got to the house, my sister was still standing out on the porch in front of a locked door. Apparently they double locked the door and were searching for the key. At that moment, my father came out of our house with his gun in hand, looking around screaming my name. For a moment he looked dead in the direction of the three of us but he never saw us. He just kept on screaming my name holding up the gun.
I held my little brothers mouth so he wouldn't make a sound and I knew my sister already knew to stay quiet. Six enlarged terrified eyes, stared at my father. Three heart beats trembled uncontrollably. We just wanted to live.
Finally our cousin's husband returned, fiddling with the keys, asking us what happened. I said franticly, "Please open the door." I looked back to see if my father, who made his way down the path of our front lawn, heard me. He did. And he looked toward us. But at that moment the door opened and we all pushed in at the same time. "Close the doors quick! Lock the doors!" I begged. Our cousin and her husband watched us in terror and asked us, "What Happened!" Finally I was able to release everything from the night that I had been holding in calmly as my mother lay dying in our basement. I felt like screaming an endless scream with my arms outstretched in the middle of the Grand Canyon. I put my brother down and in between asthmatic crying and tears and more crying the words came out. "Daddy killed Mommy."
The police eventually poured into my cousin's house. All you could see was a sea of blue and speckles of suited men everywhere. The siren's kept blaring and the red and blue lights kept reflecting into the living room. A female officer was assigned to my siblings and I. She sat us down and gently asked what happened. I remember looking over to my 3 year old brother who couldn't speak as yet due to the traumatic environment he was subjected to. Silence descended and all I saw was one tear drop, stretched and trailing, as if in slow motion, from his eye. His little face with full pink cheeks was pleading to me. At that moment, I felt him call me "Mommy".