Odds and Ends

Kayleigh Peterson

WLH 5

Ms. Bennett

24 April 2015

Odds and Ends

They came when I was eleven.  My hair was brushed and smoothed, flowing over my shoulders like a chestnut waterfall. I was wearing a my favorite glimmering aquamarine dress that brought out the golden undertones hidden underneath my olive skin.  As soon as the door burst open, a gust of frosty air swirled up the stairs and around me. I knew it meant trouble.  My family had no warning of who had just entered our house, so to be safe my parents hid my brother and I in a closet, telling us to stay quiet.

“Zoey, are we going to be okay?  These men are not going to hurt mommy or daddy right?” Max, my brother asked in a soft voice.   My brother bares a striking resemblance to me, most people we come across taught us to be twins, even though my brother was one year younger than I.

“Everything is going to be perfectly fine, but we must stay in here like they told us to do.  Make sure to stay extra quiet so the men can’t hear us,” I replied, trying to comfort my little brother.  

I sat in the closet, holding my brother in my arms wondering why these men are here.  Wondering where my parents are, and if anything happened to them.  I hadn’t heard any screaming or yelling, just a couple of loud bangs from the men going through our things.  

Max, not knowing what was going on, keeps questioning me of why this was happening to us.   “Zoey, what are the men doing?  Why are they going through all our things!” He questioned, his voice getting louder with each word.

Suddenly, a gunshot went off and Max lets out a scream, but I quickly cover his mouth with my hand to silence him, terrified the men will find us because of Max’s scream. At this moment, I have no idea if my mom and dad are okay, if the gun was pointed at them or at the robbers.  

“Max you stay right here ok, don’t make a sound.  I’m going to go check on mom and dad, I think the men left because I can’t hear them anymore.  Stay put.” I say to Max, making sure he doesn’t see anything that could scare him.  

I tip-toed out of the closet and ran to my parents bedroom to grab the phone in order to call 991.  After two rings the operator picked up asking, “991, where’s your emergency?”

“Some men broke into my house and my mom and dad shoved my brother and I into a closet and then they went somewhere else and then I heard a gunshot and I’m scared!” I rambled to the lady speaking to me on the phone.

“We’ll send dispatchers right away.  I want you to go back into the closet with your brother and stay there until we arrive, ok? You need to stay in there just in case those men come back and do not go down stairs.  Do you understand?” the lady said as I started walking back to the closet, resisting the temptation to wander down stairs. “Yes I understand,” I croaked out, my voice dry from fear.

A few minutes later, I could hear the distinct sounds of police sirens racing down our street. I turned to Max, “Hey buddy, everything is going to be ok. Do you hear those sirens?  Those sirens are here to help us.” A big crash follows an unanswered knock on the door.  Max cuddles into me repeating, “they’re back, they’re back.”

I could hear the police searching through the first story, muffled conversations about what could have possibly happened.  Footsteps march up the stairs and stop right in front of our hiding place.  “Hey kids, I am a policeman.  It’s safe to come out now, come on now, open up the door,” a man says in a soothing tone.

Cracking open the door, I recognize the police uniform and swung the door open fully.  I was met with a smiling, comforting face of a man with graying hair and warm brown eyes.  He took our hands and led us downstairs to get us checked out by the paramedics.

On our way through the first floor, Max spots a body bag lying on the ground in the kitchen.  Max tugs on the bottom of my dress to get my attention, “Zoey, I think that’s daddy, look at his hair.”  What Max said made me take a harder look at the forehead that poked out of the body bag.  I dropped to me knees and screamed.  “No! This isn’t fair! He never did anything wrong, and now he’s dead! This isn’t fair!” My father is dead, he died trying to protect my mom, my brother and I, he was taken from us. Cold, dead, gone.