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Don't Hurt My Daughter

Don't Hurt My Daughter

Every time people ask me what the worst day of my life was, I don't want to answer. Why? I don't want to answer because I don't want to look back at that horrible nightmare that turned out to be true. I remember exactly how it happened. How can I forget? It was the worst day ever. So far.

I am 7 years old, and my uncle drops me off in front of my dad's store. His daughter just gave me new Mariah Carey CD and I am really excited to try it on my dad's new radio.

It is 8:50 pm, and I still haven't tried out my new CD. I am helping my dad run the store. It's busy.

Finally, I get a break. I get my CD and bend down to put the CD in. Just as I am about to do this, a lady comes in. I look at her kind of suspiciously because when she comes in she just looks around and takes the first thing she sees: a box of crackers. My dad sees how much it costs. The tag says $2. She look into her pocket and takes $2 out.
“BOOM!” The door opens wildly. My worst nightmare was about to happen. Two men with black masks and suits and guns come in. Once I see the gun, I’m scared. I am afraid I’m going to get shot.
Trying to keep my eyes off the gun, I look at one of the men. I swear he looks familiar. Now I remember. He’s that guy that came in a couple of days before. My dad showed him a fake dollar bill. Or maybe it was real. Anyway, he looked so amazed. He had an I-want-it-so-bad look.
I watch as his gun points to my dad’s fac. I’m afraid my dad is going to die right here. I’m not even crying. I’m just in shock and scared. Everything is so surreal.
The man that looks familiar points the gun to my dad’s face and says,” OPEN THE FUCKIN’ REGISTER!” All my dad can says is,” Don’t hurt my daughter,” not answering the robber’s request. “I DON’T GIVE A F*** ABOUT YOUR FUCKIN’ DAUGHTER! NOW OPEN THE GOD DAMN REGISTER! NOW!” he screams. It seems like he is desperate to see what is in the cash register. Too bad. When my dad opens the register, there is nothing but $2 in it. The man first looks angrily at the register, then at my dad, and then at his partner, who looks pretty nervous. It must’ve been his first time robbing a store.
His partner looks around. He sees the huge cigar box. He stares at it. The familiar looking man with the gun sees what his partner is staring at. He lowers the gun, grabs the cigar box and takes off running.
At this point, you might be wondering:” What happened to the lady?” Well I asked myself the same question after it was over, and came up with this conclusion: She was part of the plan. I know that because when the robbers came, she started laughing, and I think she left with them.
About a minute after they left, my dad called the police and within a minute, they came. Apparently, they were just a block away. They were called because of a fight. Now that I think about it, my instincts are telling me that the robbers may have planned the fight. In Willimantic, there are always police cars running around everywhere since it’s a small town. I guess they knew that the policemen were going to go around everywhere and check out anything odd. Wow! They were so smart.
We went to the police station and entered a room that looked like an interrogation room. My dad and I sat down on the chairs and listened as the policeman asked my dad questions. My patience was low; my dad was talking so slowly. So I interrupted and told them how it happened.
The policeman started getting annoyed; it was either that or he was just tired. Anyway, he sent us home and that was it.
The next day I had to go to school, still freaked out about what happened the night before. My parents knew how I was feeling, so they asked my teacher if I could go to the guidance counselor. She said yes.
Other kids at my school hated going to the guidance counselor. I don’t know why. I liked it. It was so relaxing to talk and receive guidance.
So I talked to this counselor about what happened the night before. Even though I liked going to the counselor, it didn’t make me feel better. The counselor couldn’t help me with my fear.
When I think about it, I’m still afraid; ever since that incident, I’ve developed a kind of phobia where I hate going into to small stores at night. I always feel like it’s going to happen again.
When I look back now, one thing sticks out in my memory. Besides the whole robbery, I think of when my dad said,” Don’t hurt my daughter.” It made me see how much he cares about me and sacrifices for me. I’ve treated him like he’s going to be here forever when he’s really not. Now I treat him like every night is the last night I have to spend with him.
I learned a lesson: appreciate what you have. You never know when it’s not going to be there.

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This article has 2 comments. Post your own now!

glimmer said...
Jun. 9, 2011 at 2:51 pm
Thanks for sharing your experiences: it was really interesting and I enjoyed your writing style. 
Nerdynerd replied...
Jun. 10, 2011 at 9:28 am
Thank you very much.
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