“Run! RUN!” Marisol yelled, grabbing her little sister Peggy’s hand, trying to take off. But Peggy refused to budge. “Well, what are you waiting for? We have to get out of here!”
“Wait, what?” twelve year old Peggy looked confused. “What’s there to run from? Marisol, stop it! You’re scaring me!”
“Them. The- the- they’re here!” Marisol feverishly stuttered, sitting up in her hospital bed.
“Marisol,” Peggy said softly, tears in her eyes, “please be my big sister again… The one I know and love. Ever since the accident…”
“It was no accident!” Marisol shouted, cutting off her little sister mid- sentence. “They meant to- they meant to kill me!”
“I- I’m sorry,” heavy tears poured down Peggy’s eyes, “but I just can’t see you like this. I have to go,” she rushed out the door.
“Peggy, wait!” Marisol shouted out the door frantically. “Don’t leave me here with- with them! Take me with you!”
But Peggy was already gone.
Marisol fell back in her bed. It was only a matter of time. She knew the man driving that car, and she knew he was here. She just couldn’t remember his name. This was her uncle, the man she had frequently seen as a small child and then never again. He had fought and fought with her father, and soon after, her father had similarly been hit by a car, the driver unknown. Too young to fully understand, she had no idea what the dispute had been about, but she had known it was over something big.
She had been at the bus stop waiting for the school bus to arrive, when a car had come speeding out of nowhere, aimed straight for her. The last thing she remembered was the man giving her the middle finger at the moment of impact. She didn’t know why, but she knew he was out to get her, just as he had probably been out to get her father.
While talking to her sister, she had seen her uncle enter into the waiting room through the door, and she was worried he would once more attempt to kill her. Peggy thought she was insane, paranoid, but Peggy’s 12 year old mind couldn’t comprehend the way the facts fit together. Sure, Marisol had been talking like a crazy person, but the only thing she was crazy with was worry and fear.
Her heart pounded with dread as her uncle entered the hospital room. A small satchel was slung over his shoulder.
“Why hello, Marisol. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
“If by a while you mean yesterday morning when you hit me with your car!” Marisol spat out against her better judgment.
“Very perceptive, I see,” he gave a half smile. “You’re much stronger than I gave you credit for. I was expecting you to die at the moment of impact.”
“And I’m still alive. So you’re here now,” Marisol guessed. Her voice portrayed surprising calmness, but inside she was freaking out.
“My, my. You’re an extremely good guesser, just like your father. It’s a shame I have to kill you now.”
“Why? Why do you have to kill me?” Marisol choked out, her heart palpitating as quickly as a rabbit.
“Marisol, you’re smarter than that,” her uncle faked disapproval. “Have you any idea about the family fortune?”
“The family fortune?” Marisol was puzzled. What family fortune?
“Oh, your parents never told you? That’s right, your father’s dead,” he looked smug. “You must die, and then in turn your sister, so I can inherit the money my grandmother will bequeath to one of us. If everyone else is out of the picture, aren’t I the obvious choice? Goodbye, Marisol.”
No, Peggy! My life was expendable, unimportant, but my sister’s was too precious to take risks with. “No!” I cried, “You can have the family fortune! Take my life if you will, but leave Peggy out of this!” I knew that I was literally a heartbeat away from death, but I didn’t care. He threatened my little sister. He would incur my full wrath, the second I got up, the second I was strong enough to wrestle away his gun. The only problem was, I wasn’t strong enough. After barely surviving a near- fatal car accident, it was all I could do to sit up. My thought process quickened. I needed to do something. I needed to insure that he could never hurt Peggy. She had been born only weeks after my father’s death, and by the time of her birth, my mother was too distraught to give the new baby the attention she needed. So I, an seven year old girl, had basically raised Peggy on my own with little help from my mother. My sister was the most important person in my life, my most potent source of happiness. “Please, don’t do this! I’m family!” I cried, barely remembering to pay attention to my own survival.
As if in slow motion, he pulled out a gun and aimed it at my head. My life flashed before my eyes in barely a second before he fired. I took my last breath, bracing myself. I barely even cried out as the bullet entered right through my forehead.
