Jack Yakowicz
Pd. 2
5 Years Ago
It took me a while to cope with death. It took my mom longer. I was only 13 when my father was murdered by a woman named Emily Waters. Emily was my father’s co-worker at Blue World Corporation, and was obsessed with my father. She would send provocative texts, e-mails, and letters in an attempt to seduce my father, and split him up with my mother. Not only was Emily’s lust professionally unacceptable, it was also morally wrong. My dad, Howard Green, was 43 years old at the time of his murder. Emily was only 25.
I was woken up by the sound of my mom’s scream. It wasn’t a scream for help though; it was a scream of despair. I ran out of my bed and down the hall, towards my parents’ bedroom. The scarlet stain had already started crawling underneath the closed door. I flung open the door in time to see my father’s last breath, as my mom kneeled over his bed. The window to their bed room was wide open, and a sharp wind made its way through the flimsy curtains. I saw Emily drop her gun, and jump out of the window, with a fearful look on her face. She was a very attractive woman, with long brown hair and a baby face. I remember the mix of emotions I felt as I watched Emily jump out of the window. Part of me wanted to jump out after her, chase her down, and shoot her with the same weapon she used to take away my mom’s heart; the other part of me wanted to just sit and admire her beauty.
My father died on July 7th, 2006. My mother was never the same since. A letter written from Emily was found in my dad’s coat pocket when the investigative team came to my house. The letter was short; all it said was “If I can’t have you, she can’t either.” Naturally, my mother took the burden of my father’s passing upon herself. She told me, “Joey, I am so sorry. This was all my fault.” She always took responsibility for her family’s troubles. I guess it was just the motherly thing to do. The investigators hung around my house for a couple of days. My mom told them exactly who committed the crime: Emily Waters. She described every physical characteristic she could about Emily, gave the cops Emily’s home address (which she found on one of the letters that my dad had received), and handed her weapon to the police. None of it was any use. Apparently Emily had ditched the city right after she murdered my father and she was wearing black gloves which concealed her fingerprints from showing up on the gun. My dad’s murderer got away scotch-free, which hurt my mom even more. Her face seemed to age five years for every one calendar year.
It was April 5th, 2011. There was a brown paper bag filled with my lunch that my mom set out on the counter for me to grab before I left for school. I unlocked my Honda, threw my backpack in the backseat, and jetted off. Days were incredibly long at Rose Creek High, and I was just ready to graduate and get the hell out of this city. Ever since my dad passed, everything got greyer. That was the best way to describe the city; grey. A couple of my best friends, the Jordan twins, had moved out last fall so I had become increasingly anti-social. I sat in the back of Physics class thinking about college, when Mrs. Gilbert struck my attention.
“Excuse me, class,” she pleaded, “we have a new student to introduce, and I want you all to make her feel very comfortable. Give a big welcome to Kayla Hawkins.”
Kayla was the most beautiful girl I had ever laid eyes on. She looked so familiar, as though God had shown me a picture of her in one of my dreams before. She had short, blonde hair with a beauty mark on her right cheek and the brightest blue eyes I had ever seen. If God were to sculpt the perfect woman, she still couldn’t match the beauty of Kayla.
“Well, Kayla it looks like the only spot we have is in the back of the room there next to Joey.”
My heart sunk. I was excited, but nervous. I was ecstatic, but terrified. I was fidgety, but composed. I didn’t know whether I should say “hi,” or just give a subtle wave. She settled that for me, though. As she walked passed my desk, she gave a faint smile and said “I guess this is hello.” I shyly grunted, and tried to give a smile back. My mouth didn’t move.
The next six weeks, until the end of the semester, were the best days I had experienced since my dad’s passing. Every morning was a treat to know that I would soon be graced by Kayla’s presence. After a week or so, my shyness had finally passed and Kayla and I became very close. Four weeks after meeting her, on May 2nd, I asked Kayla to go out with me. She showed me those pearly white teeth that I had become so fond of, and nodded her head to say “yes.” Our relationship was great. After two months of having a crush on her, I still got the butterflies every time I saw her. Prom passed, graduation passed, and it was the summer once again. I knew that time was running thin with our relationship, given that we would both be leaving for college in the fall, but it didn’t matter. If anything it just made us cherish our time together even more. One night, near the end of June, Kayla asked me how come I’ve never introduced her to my mom. I wanted to tell Kayla all about my father’s death, and how my mom had turned to a stone-cold, solemn woman, but I couldn’t.
“I don’t know. Maybe you want to come over to my house for dinner next weekend?”
“I would love to,” she responded with a bright grin.
When I got home that night, I went into my mom’s bedroom to tell her that I invited Kayla over for dinner. She said that she was excited to meet her, but her lack of expression notified me that it was a lie. I knew it was unrealistic to expect my mom to be happy about my new girlfriend, but I just hoped that she would put on an act for Kayla, so that Kayla felt at home.
“Mom, this girl means a lot to me,” I stammered.
“I know, Joey. Good night.” She rolled back over on her side, and turned off the lamp on her nightstand.
It was Saturday, July 7th. The 5 year anniversary of my father’s death, and Kayla’s first time meeting my mom. I was nervously preparing the table for dinner, and checking the chicken in the oven, when I heard the door bell ring. Through the stain glass windows beside my front door, I saw Kayla’s vibrant face. She was wearing a bright pink v-neck, and faded jeans, with a gold purse over the top of her left shoulder.
“So, where is she? Where’s your mom?” she asked to me, with a nervous look on her face.
“Nice to see you, too,” I said jokingly. She didn’t laugh. I brought Kayla upstairs to my mom’s bedroom and said to my mom, “I have someone for you to meet, mom.”
The second that Kayla stepped into my mom’s bedroom she pulled a long, black object out of her purse and then threw it on the ground. She pulled off her beautiful, long blonde hair, revealing her true brunette locks. She peeled off the beauty mark on the side of her cheek, and took out her blue-enhanced eye contacts. I finally realized why she looked so familiar the first time I saw her. It wasn’t because I had seen her in my dreams; it was because I had seen her in reality. I had seen her for the first time exactly five years prior, when she hurdled out of my parents’ bedroom window. I had started a relationship with my father’s killer, and the woman who ruined my mother’s life. And now, I invited the killer into the house and into my mom’s bedroom.
“I should have done this a long time ago,” said Emily as she fired the gun at my mom. My mom dropped to the ground, and Emily tossed the gun on the bed. She grabbed her gold purse, and made her way out of the bedroom window, as I ran to my mom’s side with my cell phone ready to call 9-1-1. Emily Waters ruined my life, twice. As I started to dial the three-digit number, I suddenly stopped. I realized that they couldn’t stop fate. I walked over to the bed, and picked up the weapon that Emily had just used. It was heavier than I expected, but light enough for me to handle comfortably. I took the gun to my own head, and dropped to the floor beside my mom. The autopsy of my body showed that I committed suicide on July 7th, 2011. I don’t care what it said: Emily Waters killed me.
No comments:
Post a Comment