The Requital

Where It All Begins

I never asked for any of this..... All I wanted to be was the normal kid I thought I was. Not the child that was told to be quite and hide.

"If anything happens to us today, I want you to find and go to this address and tell them who sent you." My father said while handing me, a small backpack and a Marriott hotel sticky note that read the address:

355 Chesterfield Center
Chesterfield, MO
314-222-8234

I watched my father pass my older brother a Mossberg pump action shotgun and shells while he had an fully automatic weapon in his other hand. I stuffed the sticky note in my pocket then ran inside the kitchen to hide underneath the sink and cracked it open enough to see but not be to seen. Sweating, and heavily breathing, I knew exactly what was about to happen. Growing up in this nice ass house didn't leave me clueless as to the illegal things my father and older brother were possibly involved in and the enemies they might've made. I'm nine years old but I'm not stupid.

Before long, you could hear the screeching of tires of multiple vehicles and voices. And in seconds, I heard the first shots fired. I had never heard a gun go off before, so for me to hear a fire fight was loud and terrifying. After a couple of minutes, tears start to flow and my heart sank as the shooting stop and I heard voices that weren't my father's or my brother's. I knew then that they were dead.

I wanted to weep out loud, but the only thing that was keeping me alive was the fact that I was quiet and hiding behind two cupboard doors, praying to the Lord that no one would open them. I Soon see a figure of a man whom I had never seen before. He looked like he was in his twenties, stood six feet tall, bald, and was as dark as night. I knew he was in charge by the way he order every one else to search for anybody else in the compound and if they were, to kill them because he wanted to leave no witnesses. He had a pistol in hand, sat it on the table and took a seat. He then pulled cigarettes out of his shirt pocket and lit one. I studied his face to remember who he was.

After they searched the house completely, he stood up and said, "Aight, burn this motherfucker down." spitting on the floor before leaving. The goons commence to having fun, trashing the house and pour kerosene gas everywhere until their Jerry cans ran dry. Didnt like the sight of people making preparations to burn down our house and the smell of kerosene was burning my nose. The thugs struck a lighter dropping it where they stood watching the fire ignite and left before the house was engulfed in flames. When I realize that the coast was clear and seen the flames were quickly rising, I make a made dash for the transparent double doors that lead to the backyard before I am burned alive.

In a matter of minutes, the entire house is up in flames while I stood watching on plush green grass by the poolside. I weep in silence out of fear that I might be heard and someone was still there. And as I hear sirens in the vicinity, I climbed up over a wall divider that separates our neighbors compound from ours, leaping on to their lawn and ran far away as I can before I can be seen or discovered........