Why Me

My heart was racing, sweat rolling down the inside of my arms, my body throbbing, a million different thoughts cascading through my mind. What was I going to do? Who is this guy? What is he doing? Why is he doing this? These were the questions that I kept asking myself over and over again, while I hid behind the wardrobe in my parent's bedroom. I didn't want to open my eyes, afraid that I would see this man staring at me, afraid that he found me, afraid that he would make me scream and feel pain. It seemed like hours that I have been hiding from this man, hiding from the world, and hoping that I could stop hearing the pain and anguish of my family downstairs.

I finally opened my eyes, looked around the once familiar room, that I would always come to if I need comfort, and protection. Now it didn't offer any comfort. The bed was torn apart; dressers in shambles on the floor, and the wardrobe from what I could see from my hiding place behind it, both doors to it were broken on the floor not two feet in front of me. If the wardrobe wasn't as strong as it had been that man would have found me for sure. My eyes finally fell upon our family portrait, torn out of the frame, laying at the foot my parent's bed. I couldn't take my eyes off of it. Entranced, I just kept looking at my father, mother, and my twin sister's image.

A deep scream bellowed from the bottom of the stairs. It belonged to my father, and all I could do was stare at my father in the portrait, thinking how happy he was that day... how happy we all were. Tears started falling from my eyes. I had to choke back the sounds that wanted to explode from the pit of my stomach. I kept telling myself that I can't make a sound. If I do that man will surely find me.

Then simultaneously I heard my parents scream, NOOOO! I couldn't take it any more; I knew something very bad just happened! I felt my knees buckle, and I fell to the floor with a loud thump. I started to sob uncontrollably, thinking about why I was the one who wasn't being tortured. All of a sudden, all the screams from downstairs subsided. All I heard after that was my father's deep voice yelling at the top of his lungs that there was no one else here, and that the sound was nothing but a bird hitting the upstairs window. I froze! I had to stop myself from crying! I had to no matter what! I started hearing heavy footsteps fall upon the stairs. They were getting louder, closer, and I had to stop crying! I tried and tried, but I couldn't stop my tears. I heard the man stop at top of the stairs, as if trying to hear where I was, yet I couldn't stop crying. Then they started again, slowly coming closer and closer to my parent's room. Again I heard my father yell that it was nothing more than a bird. Somehow, after I heard that, I gained control of my tears. It was just in time too.

The door slammed open and I froze, petrified, thinking that the man had found me! I couldn't see him; I only knew he was there by his heavy steps. He took two steps in, and stopped, I knew he was listening, trying to find out where I was. He picked up the mattress and tossed it aside, hoping that I was under there. Then I heard his massive form walk over to the closet and tear everything out. Then his footsteps started coming closer and closer!

Oh no! He found me!

He walked in front of the wardrobe and stopped. My heart pounding, so loud I thought for sure he would hear it. He then grabbed onto both sides, and tried to pull it away from the corner it was shoved in. He grunted every attempt he made. Yet, he couldn't even budge it. He gave up and quickly left the room. All the air in my lungs came flowing out in a single sigh of relief. I heard him as he searched all the other rooms upstairs, while making a huge amount of noise.

I was just small enough to fit behind the wardrobe. My sister and everyone else at school had always made fun of me for being so tiny for my age; I was the only one who could fit behind almost everything in our house. My sister had hid under her bed, but it didn't take long for this man to find her and take her downstairs with my parents.

I heard the man walk back downstairs and soon after I started to hear more screams. I knew that I couldn't sit here and do nothing while this man tortured my family!

I had to do something, but what? I couldn't run to another house, the closest house was over ten miles away. Also I couldn't confront this man. A small child like me is no match for him, surely he would make me feel the same pain, and meet the same demise as the rest of my family. What could I do?

I had to come up with a plan now! I couldn't think at all with my family's distress pounding at my eardrums. I sat and thought for awhile and analyzed the situation. I decided that I would quietly get out of behind the wardrobe, climb out of the window onto the old tree right next to the house, and look inside the windows to see where the man and my family were, and what was happening. I did just that.

I cautiously climbed half way down the tree, until I could just barely see into the living room. I looked in through the window. The sight was very grotesque. My father and mother were tied up in the center of the room in chairs; my mother was knocked out, while my father was looking down at the ground with this defeated look across his face. The man had his back towards me, fumbling through things. But where was my sister? She wasn't by my parents, so where could she be? Has she gotten free, and went to get help? All of a sudden the man went behind my father and knelt down. He pulled out a knife and started doing something. My father roared out in pain, as a finger fell to the ground. I was horrified! Why was this man doing this to my father? Tears started flowing from my eyes, my hands tightened around the branch, the world started going into a giant blur of colors. I almost lost balance and fell out of the tree. I wiped the tears out of my eyes and refocused myself back on the situation at hand. Then somehow my father felt I was there and looked straight at me. He had pain and misery in his eyes. A single tear rolled down his face, and he looked back at the floor, ashamed of himself.

My sister went through my head again, where could she be? Then I looked through the living room, and into the dining room. My heart stopped beating, my lip began to quiver, and tears started pouring out of my eyes. On the dining room table was the mutilated body of my sister.

My sister was dead! Her throat had a huge gash through it, and her whole body was drenched in blood. I didn't know what to do. This man killed my sister, and he is going to kill my parents too! I had to do something quick! Just then I remembered about my father's