Robert

SHADOWED BY MY FATHER

The blue light from the police vehicle bounces across the cedar deck of the colonial house with beige clapboards and a peach colored front door. Darkness came quickly to 483 Mill Ave. both inside and outside the house. Police lights were the only light in such a dark tale the teenager relayed to the detective. Detective Douglas asked the 15 year old high school student to go for a walk away from the chaos of the crime scene.

                  “So what happened that started all this?” inquired the tall wide shouldered detective.

                  Fearful and unable to answer, he barely hears the question and continues walking. Again he realizes the officer is talking to him.

                  “Hey, son did you hear what I said?” again probing for some connection that will help the investigation.

                  “I was in my bedroom with Hiccup. We always slept together. Mom and Dad gave it to me on my fifth birthday because I had trouble sleeping. My monkey and I had just gone to bed when Hiccup heard a slam. We heard it before, but didn’t know what it was. Afraid to leave our bed, we decided to listen and not move. The sound got louder and our hearts were racing. A shriek caused Hiccup to leap from the bed pulling me along. We looked out the door and darted to Mummy’s room for safety. I pushed open the door, and Mummy was on the ground making crying sounds, and daddy was pushing a pillow on her face. He goes to grab Hiccup, and we both run to my room.”

                  Detective Douglas removes his coat and places it on the boy’s shoulders as he shivers and slows his walk. Stopping almost as quickly as he started, the boy is silent. They turn and walk back toward the cruiser and the flashing light reflects in the glasses of the detective, and the young adolescent quickly responds:

                  “I was at Kurt’s house and his parents dropped me off. I had called for a ride, but the answering machine came on, so I figured they were asleep. I went to grab some ice cream in the kitchen, but before I even entered the kitchen, I heard that unbearable slam and started shaking. Dashing to the stairs, I took them two at a time. The slam became louder and louder. I reached the bedroom door breathing heavily. Wanting to open the door, something held me back. A muffled scream scared me into charging through to see my mother again on the floor, shadowed by my father. Stricken with fear, I didn’t know what to do. In a glance, my father rushed over to me and grabbed my arm. I whacked my father behind his head as hard as I could with my fist, and he fell to the floor. In a second everything went silent. My mother was on the floor, injured at the hands of my father. My father was unconscious.”