Sticks And Stones

Awaken

Then, tragedy struck.

We were waiting for the good news of my fathers promotiom when we got a phone call and rushed over to his office building. The whole bank was glass so I could see everything that was happening inside even though the policemen refused to let us anywhere close. But I was a stupid 11 year old at the time. I believed in happy endings and that good triumphs over bad no matter what. So I ran past the policemen and SWAT team into the bank to help my dad. "Daddy!" I had cried.

The robber turned towards me and looked at me, astonished. I remember his exact facial expression after this. I remember his raised eyebrow and the smirk that I'll forever have ingrained inside my memory that appeared on his face as he raised his small hand gun and pointed it at me. "Say goodbye, 'daddy'," he laughed. Before I knew it, he had fired the gun straight at by heart. I heard the shot but felt nothing. Confused, I looked up to see the man laughing and my father on the tile floor, surrounded by a crimson pool.

I remember exactly how the warm tears that fell from my face felt against my skin as if they were falling at that exact moment. I remember my fathers face losing color before my eyes and his exact words to me. He told me that it wasn't my fault and that it was just his time to go. He told me that I have to take care of my mother and Brent no matter what. He made me promise that I wouldn't beat myself up over it. And after all this, I watched the man who loved me most in the world become a limp body with a hole is its chest in my very arms. I witnessed his eyes roll to the back of his head and my life slowly drain away.

Fresh tears slid down my cheeks and I didn't even bother to wipe them away. A few strangers asked if I was okay but I quietly brushed them off. Why do people ask that, I wondered. Why do people have to ask if someone is okay when clearly they're not? I get asked that by teachers, counselors... everyone. Why do they believe me when I say I am? Is it just the easier route? So they don't have to put time and effort into helping someone? I kneeled by the doors of the building and cried until I felt a gentle hand be placed on my back. "Are you alright?" A deep voice asked me softly.

Finally, I slowly shook my head. "No," I managed to get out. "Not by a long shot."

The man pulled me up off the ground and embraced me as I cried into his shoulder. He had no idea who I was and I sure as heck didn't know him but he continued to accept my embrace. I appreciated it dearly but found it a bit creepy so I sniffled and pulled away.

 "Thanks," I muttered. I finally got a good look at his face and was surprised. He looked much older than me but was very handsome. He was maybe in his late 20's or so.

"Any time," he smiled. "Do you want to talk about it?"

I rolled my eyes and laughed dryly. "How much time do you have?"

"As long as you need," he smiled.

"Not long enough," I muttered.

He gave me a thoughtful look and sighed. "I'll see you around then." I had secretly hoped he would be stubborn and demand for me to tell him what was wrong but ,of course, nothing goes as I hope. I sighed too and turned around to walk away when he pulled me back.

"What's your name by the way?" He inquired.

I thought for a second about telling him a fake name but felt there really was no point. "Haylie," I answered, "Haylie Jensen."

"Haylie," he drawled, "Thats a beautiful name,". He squeezed my hand one last time and walked away.

I spent the rest of the time trying not to think. Not about my mom. Not about Brent. Not even about the man who's name I had yet to figure out. I just sat on a bench, watched the smoke of the cigarette dissipate into the cold autumn air, and didn't think.

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My hand grasped the doorknob tightly as if it were the only think keeping me on this earth and if I let go, it would float away. I took three deep breaths, getting ready for what was to come. Bravely stepping into the house, I held my breath, waiting for the screaming and blows to the face, yet nothing came. In fact, it was so quiet in this house I became afraid. My mother never ever left this early. No matter what. My legs gingerly walked me toward the kitchen and my heart stopped at what was before me. Bottles of pills and liquor were scattered about the floor and my mother was laying in the middle of it, unmoving.

I instantly ran towards her to checked her pulse but all I felt was her cool skin. I dialed 911 and asked what I could do but the lady on the other end of the phone told me nothing useful. "Mom, please wake up!" I pleaded, "I know that you have done some horrible things but I forgive you! With all my heart, I forgive you." My voice became a small whimper. "Please. You can't leave me too." My arms wrapped around her limp body and I let out a choked sob.

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A/N Sooo.... It's been a while. It takes a while for me to update because I want the chapter to be the best I can make it! ^-^ I'm really excited for what's to come and if you promote my story, I will definitely help you any way I can with yours! Pppllleeeaaassseee vote, comment, and tell me what you liked or disliked about this. Keep the feedback coming!

~Yours truly, Hadassah