Ruthless—brutal, words all linked.
I hadn’t known about these words until today. The day my parents were killed and I was made to watch.
It was on that fateful day. The day we were to leave for New Zealand. Mom had packed all our things and they were in the living room. She was running down the stairs with Dad following behind. I was excited to be on our way to Oceania, and I couldn’t wait to be on a plane.
“Honey, take your jacket. Here, let me put it on.”
I smiled as she did. Little me was overexcited. How lovely would it be to get out again?
“Heart, where is it? My wristwatch.”
“Oh, it’s on the stand, honey. There. Right there.” She pointed. I clung to her hand as she looked down at me, my baby teeth all showing. Dad got his watch on the DVD stand, and we set to leave, as the door pushed open.
Pua! The sound of a gunshot, my Dad falling right to the floor.
“Ah—” Pua! A second one, my Mom fell next.
At that time I knew not what a gun was, and was scared because of how loud it was. My parents lay on the cold floor, bloody and as stiff as anything I’d seen.
The shooter was gone, and I was left alone with my parents’ bodies to tend to. Could the world ever be so cruel? I stood in shock, dumb and frozen at the spot. Oh, why?