The sky is gray, wet, and really cold. I step outside to stop the feeling of terror that’s ripping through my body. It’s horrible that I had to see that. I hate it. God knows that if I could I would have stopped him. But, a 10 year old, that only weights 110, can’t fight off a 30 year-old-man that probably weighs a ton. I just wish that him and ma didn’t get to arguing that night. I mean if it was really that serious, I would have washed my little bro up. Maybe mama should have never hit him. I mean she was only 28! Short, skinny, and probably only weighed about 100 pounds, but she had power. When she swung, she swung with all her might and she meant it. But what did Mike do to her to get mommy so upset?

BOOM! Was the last thing I heard before, POW! POW! The shots of his silver pistol going off, I peeked into her room to see her motionless body laying face down into a pool of blood. I ran back to my room quietly but in my mind I was loud, the heavy breathing, me painting for air. Minutes later I hear one more shot and a loud thump. I peeked back into her room to find him on the floor gasping for air, but looking in my eyes, helplessly, three minutes of him looking at me then he’s motionless too, ambulance, coming down the street with, their screaming sirens filling my ears. This was the story I was going to tell the police.

“GET UP!!” yelled Mrs. Ray, “The police would like to have a word with you.” I stand up and walk down the hallway with two officers, all eyes on me. I walk into the main office, the principal stands up and one of the officers begin to read me my rights “You have the right to remain silent anything you say or do will and can be used against you in the court of law.” I was caught; I knew it was going to come to this.

The moment I fired the first shots, and the moment I told that sick and sorry whimp of a man to get on his knees. I knew I would get caught. Why did I have to pull the trigger? Why did mom have to hurt me all those years? Why didn’t she just love me like she loved the rest of the family? What did I do to deserve this? Why did God put me in the horrible position?

As I stand up and the officer puts me in handcuffs, my face turns hot, I know they are going to try me as an adult. I wasn’t ready to go to jail, I didn’t mean for it to turn out this way. I sit in the police car wondering to myself….will they believe me? Should I take responsibility for my actions? Should I just have killed myself after I was finish? What will happen to my brothers? As all these questions go threw my mind, the office is talking on that radio thing, telling the person on the other end that we’re on our way.

When we pull up in the parking lot, there are already reporters all over the car, asking me all these questions. Before the bald, middle aged, white guy got out the car he tells me, “Don’t answer any of the questions, until we get you a lawyer.” I nod my head, indicating that I understood. He get’s out the car and comes to open my door. As he opened my door, I can hear a lady behind us say, “Wow, he’s too young to commit such a horrible thing.” I turn to look at her and notice that her eyes are starting to fill with worry. The officer opens the door and registers me in, taking my picture. Putting my hand in this icky, black stuff then presses all my fingers against a piece of white paper, which now seems to have my fingerprints on them. He then takes me down this long hallway and into this small room with a huge window, before he close the door I glance up see the number 132 and the words INTERGATION ROOM and then it hits me. This is going to be a very long day.

What seems like hours later, the same officer comes back in with a box of Milk Dubs and a Sprite, hands it to me and sit across the table and smile at me. I can tell he’s about to ask me questions. Just then another officer enters the room and sits next to me and told me that I was in hot water and the only way I can get out is if I tell the truth. I sat there for three hours explaining what I went through all my life, and they listen; I also seen a few tears come from their eyes, and they even apologized. I try to explain to them that the man always makes me do it, but they say “I’m sick or I’m going through a stage.” I get tired of explaining and tell them with my head down low and my eyes looking up “Just watch.”
They put me in my aunt and uncles’ custody; it took me two months to get use to them. Then, my rain of terror came about once again….. The sky is gray, wet, and really cold. I step outside to stop the feeling of terror that’s ripping through my body. It’s horrible that I had to see that. I hate it. God knows that if I could I would have stopped him, I just wish he wasn’t inside of me.