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smashing of the windows in the living room. Howling of boys screaming WE’RE GONNA GET YOU rang through the entire house.
Frightened and alone I watched them circle the house taunting me to come outside. I had two options. Stay inside and hide like the coward the world believes I was or stand up for myself. Once the bullies had reached the back yard I had had enough. Locked high above the fire place; the answer to my nightmares, my father’s prize shotgun. I took a deep breath, unlocked it and loaded the shells. I could see all three of them slapping base ball bats into their big palms, walking up the steps of the patio. That’s where I snapped. No one would come in my house and disrespect my family who has done everything to give me a life I deserved, and the bullies were going to take that away.
I don’t quite remember the exact sequence of events that happened so I will do my best to recount them. I flung open the patio door and a shot rang out. Whether it was my finger on the trigger I have no recollection, I felt as though my mother had taken over in spirit and was shooting a warning to my bullies to leave the premise.
Lucky for me the two scrawnier ones took off in a sheer panic. They hollered to their ‘leader’ the captain to come along but he did not budge. He stood there on the porch looking at me with fear in his eyes. His mouth however spitted out the most horrible things one has ever heard, that I chose not to include here, as that is not the point of this story. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and pointed that shot gun right at him. I only meant to scare him really I did. But he lunged at me and I pulled the trigger.
The sound that was heard was blood curdling. The bang of the gun, the wet sound of blood splatter and the smack of what I thought was an arm hitting the floor. Not a sound came out of his mouth... finally ... silence... But the look in his eyes as the blood and life slipped from his body was gratifying enough for me.
As I stood there in awe and wonder not knowing what to do next I heard the front door slam open and my father screaming, just screaming my name over and over and over. He picked up the phone immediately and called 911. Not knowing the exact details of what had happened he managed to spit out, dead child, shot gun, back patio.
My father held me in his arms rocking and shaking until the ambulance arrived. It was too late... Neither of us said a word to each other but the look in his eyes as we were locked together was enough. I could see the hurt but also a glimpse of pride that I stood up for myself, then a wave of fear.
In a brief moment of silence, the world rushing around us I heard not a sound. Not one until the police barged in and hand cuffed my father. I pleaded with them saying it was not him it was me, however they wanted to hear nothing of it. I, to this day, still don’t know when this happened, but my father had managed to pry the shot gun from my hands and was holding it as the cops rushed in.
Dazed and confused I passed out. I woke up in the hospital being treated for shock when I was informed that my father was in jail and would stand trial for the murder of the captain of the football team. I kicked and screamed and tried to tell my story but no one would listen. My grandparents showed up looking more somber than usual. I was going to live with them out of state where no one knew my name. A dream come true for some I guess.
Weeks, months went by without any correspondence from my father. I missed my parents so much. I spent most of my time in my room alone doing homework. My grandparents thought it would be best to be home schooled so they could keep an eye on me. ‘Insanity runs in the family’ they would say.
Finally the day came. My father would stand before the judge and plead not guilty. Waiting in the court room hearing the buzz of whispers and the shuffling of papers was enough to drive anyone crazy. But the words that came out of my father’s mouth would haunt me for years. He recounted how my mother had picked up and fled that summer. He told the court of the years of bullying I had been subjected to. He poured out his heart. But most importantly of all, he claimed to have had enough of the torture being subjected on the family and someone had to pay. My father was a brilliant man, and it baffled me that he would take the fall for a murder he did not commit. I screamed LIAR LIAR LIAR through the court room I rushed to the judge and told him the truth. I am a 13 year old boy who murdered the captain of my football team because I had had enough.
Sadly no one believed me. They believed I was a sad little boy with no parents who was trying to save the only thing left in this world that he had...
Years have gone by, and the more I think about it the more I realize it. This world is a crazy messed up place and we all have to adapt. Survival of the fittest I believe the term is. My father would give anything to save me and I would do the same for my two beautiful children. After years of monthly visits I began to understand his logic. He lived his life, and now it was time to live mine. The torture I went through would have never stopped especially if I had been thrown into juvenile detention. My father lied to save a child he thought he would lose. He could not stand to watch his only son waste away after his wife left.
In essence my father gave me the life I had always dreamed of but would never have if I continued on the path of destruction. My children do not know their grandfather and I cannot bring myself to tell them the truth of the events that transpired thirty years ago. Come to think of it, this is the first time I have told anyone.
If there is one lesson to be learnt from these events, it would be unconditional love. Love they neighbor or so it says in the bible and none of this would have happened. The world is a cruel place but I still believe that there is hope for a future generation.
There is one thing that still baffles me however... I may never find clarity or an answer to this but my quest remains...
Some say honesty is the best policy. However in some cases whether the truth was told or not, the outcome may be the same; deceiving, disappointing or maybe a second chance...
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Frightened and alone I watched them circle the house taunting me to come outside. I had two options. Stay inside and hide like the coward the world believes I was or stand up for myself. Once the bullies had reached the back yard I had had enough. Locked high above the fire place; the answer to my nightmares, my father’s prize shotgun. I took a deep breath, unlocked it and loaded the shells. I could see all three of them slapping base ball bats into their big palms, walking up the steps of the patio. That’s where I snapped. No one would come in my house and disrespect my family who has done everything to give me a life I deserved, and the bullies were going to take that away.
I don’t quite remember the exact sequence of events that happened so I will do my best to recount them. I flung open the patio door and a shot rang out. Whether it was my finger on the trigger I have no recollection, I felt as though my mother had taken over in spirit and was shooting a warning to my bullies to leave the premise.
Lucky for me the two scrawnier ones took off in a sheer panic. They hollered to their ‘leader’ the captain to come along but he did not budge. He stood there on the porch looking at me with fear in his eyes. His mouth however spitted out the most horrible things one has ever heard, that I chose not to include here, as that is not the point of this story. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and pointed that shot gun right at him. I only meant to scare him really I did. But he lunged at me and I pulled the trigger.
The sound that was heard was blood curdling. The bang of the gun, the wet sound of blood splatter and the smack of what I thought was an arm hitting the floor. Not a sound came out of his mouth... finally ... silence... But the look in his eyes as the blood and life slipped from his body was gratifying enough for me.
As I stood there in awe and wonder not knowing what to do next I heard the front door slam open and my father screaming, just screaming my name over and over and over. He picked up the phone immediately and called 911. Not knowing the exact details of what had happened he managed to spit out, dead child, shot gun, back patio.
My father held me in his arms rocking and shaking until the ambulance arrived. It was too late... Neither of us said a word to each other but the look in his eyes as we were locked together was enough. I could see the hurt but also a glimpse of pride that I stood up for myself, then a wave of fear.
In a brief moment of silence, the world rushing around us I heard not a sound. Not one until the police barged in and hand cuffed my father. I pleaded with them saying it was not him it was me, however they wanted to hear nothing of it. I, to this day, still don’t know when this happened, but my father had managed to pry the shot gun from my hands and was holding it as the cops rushed in.
Dazed and confused I passed out. I woke up in the hospital being treated for shock when I was informed that my father was in jail and would stand trial for the murder of the captain of the football team. I kicked and screamed and tried to tell my story but no one would listen. My grandparents showed up looking more somber than usual. I was going to live with them out of state where no one knew my name. A dream come true for some I guess.
Weeks, months went by without any correspondence from my father. I missed my parents so much. I spent most of my time in my room alone doing homework. My grandparents thought it would be best to be home schooled so they could keep an eye on me. ‘Insanity runs in the family’ they would say.
Finally the day came. My father would stand before the judge and plead not guilty. Waiting in the court room hearing the buzz of whispers and the shuffling of papers was enough to drive anyone crazy. But the words that came out of my father’s mouth would haunt me for years. He recounted how my mother had picked up and fled that summer. He told the court of the years of bullying I had been subjected to. He poured out his heart. But most importantly of all, he claimed to have had enough of the torture being subjected on the family and someone had to pay. My father was a brilliant man, and it baffled me that he would take the fall for a murder he did not commit. I screamed LIAR LIAR LIAR through the court room I rushed to the judge and told him the truth. I am a 13 year old boy who murdered the captain of my football team because I had had enough.
Sadly no one believed me. They believed I was a sad little boy with no parents who was trying to save the only thing left in this world that he had...
Years have gone by, and the more I think about it the more I realize it. This world is a crazy messed up place and we all have to adapt. Survival of the fittest I believe the term is. My father would give anything to save me and I would do the same for my two beautiful children. After years of monthly visits I began to understand his logic. He lived his life, and now it was time to live mine. The torture I went through would have never stopped especially if I had been thrown into juvenile detention. My father lied to save a child he thought he would lose. He could not stand to watch his only son waste away after his wife left.
In essence my father gave me the life I had always dreamed of but would never have if I continued on the path of destruction. My children do not know their grandfather and I cannot bring myself to tell them the truth of the events that transpired thirty years ago. Come to think of it, this is the first time I have told anyone.
If there is one lesson to be learnt from these events, it would be unconditional love. Love they neighbor or so it says in the bible and none of this would have happened. The world is a cruel place but I still believe that there is hope for a future generation.
There is one thing that still baffles me however... I may never find clarity or an answer to this but my quest remains...
Some say honesty is the best policy. However in some cases whether the truth was told or not, the outcome may be the same; deceiving, disappointing or maybe a second chance...
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Truth Be Told