Count to Three

Preface

Preface

Prior to the shooting, it was difficult to tell that anything was wrong. It was natural for me to overlook the warning signs, because he seemed fairly normal. He carried on with his usual routine as if nothing was about to change, as if he wasn't the one behind the trigger.

Our conversations were short and sweet, as they usually were. He still drove me to school and he still told me good night. He made me dinner when dad was gone and mom was still at the station.

The things that stuck out to me weren't all that concerning at the time. He would zone out when I was talking to him and he acted distant. It was silly of me to assume that he just needed more sleep. I pushed thoughts away from my mind of anything being wrong, for nothing was ever wrong with him. He always worried about me, but never himself. He was always second.

Maybe that was what drove him to do it. The lack of a father figure in his life, mom always working, having to take care of me - it couldn't have been easy. He put too much responsibility on his own shoulders.

That was his breaking point.

When dad finally came home that night, drunk and confused, Eli couldn't handle it. His day at school was stressful enough, and he had to resume his obligations at home. Mom had asked him to clean the house and take me to soccer, when all he wanted to do was get some rest. I should've volunteered to clean for him to let him sleep, but I didn't. I was selfish.

Eli was angry because dad tried to yell at him for something stupid. After all, how could dad possibly try to punish Eli, when he himself was never home? Eli wasn't thinking. He grabbed the rifle from mom's gun cabinet, fuming with rage. That was the last warning sign, the only one that I didn't overlook. I was too far away to stop him. I should've been able to stop him.

Eli shot the rifle, aiming for dad's throat. That was it - all of his stress was relieved by that one click of the trigger.

I watched my brother shoot my father. I watched my dad die in front of me. I watched my brother get arrested by my mother, chief of police.

That was my breaking point.

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