oOBatteryOo
07-27-2012, 02:37 PM
Let me start off by saying my family is alive and well, so I apologize for the misleading title. I will not, however, deny that I watched my family die.
It was about 10 years ago when my family planned a road trip to Disneyland. My family had never planned a vacation before or did anything remotely interesting as a "road trip", so the thought of me stepping beyond Canada's borders was absolutely thrilling. It sounds a bit sad now that I mention it but I was a heavily sheltered 13 year old girl, so Disneyland was as good as it gets. At the time, I lived in Richmond (British Columbia) which would mean it would take us a day or two driving to California. I was so excited that my mother spent what little money she had left to get me brand new luggage for my first "vacation".
The road trip was pretty uneventful. I stared out the window at the everlasting amount of cliffs and rock and dirt. I didn't know what state we were currently driving in but I didn't care. I was just happy to take a week off from my horrid school (my athletics-focused high school wasn't particularly friendly to teacher's pets like me). All I could remember from the car ride was my 9yr old brother reading Captain Underpants quietly in the back, while my 5yr old brother snoozed the whole day. It was getting dark by the time we passed the "Welcome to Oregon" sign, so my parents decided to stop by a motel. I thought at the time that all motels had a fun kitsch-y theme and maybe came with a waterbed. This one had a depressing musky smell and the decor looked straight from the 80's. I didn't care at all, and quickly found myself falling deep into sleep.
I also found myself staring at the man that was about to murder my family.
My body was frozen as my eyes tried to make sense of what I was seeing. He was standing in between the two beds where my family was quietly sleeping. The windows barely let any light in for me to see his face, but I knew he was staring at me. I knew he was smiling.
He lifted his rifle and swiftly shot at the clump of blankets in the corner of my eye. It was my father. My mother jolted upright and was shot in the chest before she had time to scream. The monster turned to the other bed and smiled maniacally as my brothers, awake and terrified, stared at the barrel of his gun. My brother wrapped his small frail arms around his younger brother as they closed their eyes. Their tears and blood trickled onto the mattress.
I watched him slowly make his way to me. I watched as his lifted his rifle firmly with his hands, and pointed it at my forehead. I didn't blink. I didn't scream. I was already dead. I lost my family in a matter of seconds, and now I begged with my eyes for him to pull the trigger.
-BANG-
I jolted upright. I was awake now, profusely sweating with my heart beating like a jackhammer. I couldn't believe that it was just a nightmare. Normally, I could tell when I was dreaming because I had the ability to fly away. I could fly to the ends of the earth if something or someone was trying to hurt me. But that nightmare was especially frightening. I couldn't just fly through the roof and escape like I normally would. I couldn't blur the edges to make my dream less terrifying. The details of the room were so vivid that it was as if my eyes were actually open. The 20" tube TV sat where it was suppose to be, the bed sheet had the same hideous floral pattern, and if I wanted to, I could count every flower pattern on my luggage that sat in the corner of the room. The relief of realizing it was a dream was short lived.
My family was sleeping quietly in their beds, unharmed and alive, but I noticed my dad was peeking slightly through the curtains of the window.
"Dad.." I whispered. "What are you doing?"
"I heard a gunshot" my father responded. My heart stopped.
How did I not realize that I had heard it too? The shot was so loud that it woke me up from my nightmare. Maybe I was so relieved for my family's safety that I assumed the gunshot was a remaining echo from my dream. My father didn't take his eyes away from the window. I watched him walk to our room door and opened it slightly. He cautiously stuck his head outside to see what was going on.
"CLOSE THE DOOR AND GET BACK INSIDE! NOW!!"
My dad slammed the door close and started shoving the dresser in attempt to block the door. "HIDE IN THE BATHROOM", he screamed at me. My mother woke up in an angry panic and demanded my father to explain. "JUST GET THE KIDS AND HIDE IN THE BATHROOM"
Before my mother could continue pestering him with questions, another loud -BANG- was heard outside. My mother swore and pulled me and my brothers to the bathroom. My father took the mattress off the bed lifted it over my family and told us to stay down. All I could remember from this was the cracking sound of more gunshots and my mother holding us all tight, telling us to stay calm.
An hour or so later, the cops pulled us out of the room and told us we were safe. My family left the room one by one, and as I left, I glanced to the spot where the gunshots were being fired. There were two large body bags. We waited inside the motel's dingy little office while my father was being interviewed outside. I stared as the place was being ribboned with police tape and wondered who was in those body bags. A cop came to me and turned on his recorder. "I'm very sorry you had to witness that. May I ask you some questions?" I corrected him and told him I didn't witness anything. He asked me what I saw, what I heard, what I knew. How could I answer anything but the obvious? "I woke up because I heard a gunshot. My father saw the rest." After he realized I was a pretty useless witness, he continued to interview my father. "Are we going to be on the news?" my brother asked. "I hope not. I'm just happy we're safe", I replied, giving him the biggest hug my body could muster. He gave me a disgusted look, but I was overwhelmed with joy that my family was alive. My father eventually came back into the office and told us briefly what happened.
Two men had died in a shoot out in front of our motel room. One of the men was a cop who gave his life to protect ours. He was the one that yelled at my father to get back inside the room in fear that my father would get shot. The other man was a stranger. A tall, lanky stranger who had no empathy for human life. A stranger who stayed in the room next to ours.
A stranger with a rifle.
It was about 10 years ago when my family planned a road trip to Disneyland. My family had never planned a vacation before or did anything remotely interesting as a "road trip", so the thought of me stepping beyond Canada's borders was absolutely thrilling. It sounds a bit sad now that I mention it but I was a heavily sheltered 13 year old girl, so Disneyland was as good as it gets. At the time, I lived in Richmond (British Columbia) which would mean it would take us a day or two driving to California. I was so excited that my mother spent what little money she had left to get me brand new luggage for my first "vacation".
The road trip was pretty uneventful. I stared out the window at the everlasting amount of cliffs and rock and dirt. I didn't know what state we were currently driving in but I didn't care. I was just happy to take a week off from my horrid school (my athletics-focused high school wasn't particularly friendly to teacher's pets like me). All I could remember from the car ride was my 9yr old brother reading Captain Underpants quietly in the back, while my 5yr old brother snoozed the whole day. It was getting dark by the time we passed the "Welcome to Oregon" sign, so my parents decided to stop by a motel. I thought at the time that all motels had a fun kitsch-y theme and maybe came with a waterbed. This one had a depressing musky smell and the decor looked straight from the 80's. I didn't care at all, and quickly found myself falling deep into sleep.
I also found myself staring at the man that was about to murder my family.
My body was frozen as my eyes tried to make sense of what I was seeing. He was standing in between the two beds where my family was quietly sleeping. The windows barely let any light in for me to see his face, but I knew he was staring at me. I knew he was smiling.
He lifted his rifle and swiftly shot at the clump of blankets in the corner of my eye. It was my father. My mother jolted upright and was shot in the chest before she had time to scream. The monster turned to the other bed and smiled maniacally as my brothers, awake and terrified, stared at the barrel of his gun. My brother wrapped his small frail arms around his younger brother as they closed their eyes. Their tears and blood trickled onto the mattress.
I watched him slowly make his way to me. I watched as his lifted his rifle firmly with his hands, and pointed it at my forehead. I didn't blink. I didn't scream. I was already dead. I lost my family in a matter of seconds, and now I begged with my eyes for him to pull the trigger.
-BANG-
I jolted upright. I was awake now, profusely sweating with my heart beating like a jackhammer. I couldn't believe that it was just a nightmare. Normally, I could tell when I was dreaming because I had the ability to fly away. I could fly to the ends of the earth if something or someone was trying to hurt me. But that nightmare was especially frightening. I couldn't just fly through the roof and escape like I normally would. I couldn't blur the edges to make my dream less terrifying. The details of the room were so vivid that it was as if my eyes were actually open. The 20" tube TV sat where it was suppose to be, the bed sheet had the same hideous floral pattern, and if I wanted to, I could count every flower pattern on my luggage that sat in the corner of the room. The relief of realizing it was a dream was short lived.
My family was sleeping quietly in their beds, unharmed and alive, but I noticed my dad was peeking slightly through the curtains of the window.
"Dad.." I whispered. "What are you doing?"
"I heard a gunshot" my father responded. My heart stopped.
How did I not realize that I had heard it too? The shot was so loud that it woke me up from my nightmare. Maybe I was so relieved for my family's safety that I assumed the gunshot was a remaining echo from my dream. My father didn't take his eyes away from the window. I watched him walk to our room door and opened it slightly. He cautiously stuck his head outside to see what was going on.
"CLOSE THE DOOR AND GET BACK INSIDE! NOW!!"
My dad slammed the door close and started shoving the dresser in attempt to block the door. "HIDE IN THE BATHROOM", he screamed at me. My mother woke up in an angry panic and demanded my father to explain. "JUST GET THE KIDS AND HIDE IN THE BATHROOM"
Before my mother could continue pestering him with questions, another loud -BANG- was heard outside. My mother swore and pulled me and my brothers to the bathroom. My father took the mattress off the bed lifted it over my family and told us to stay down. All I could remember from this was the cracking sound of more gunshots and my mother holding us all tight, telling us to stay calm.
An hour or so later, the cops pulled us out of the room and told us we were safe. My family left the room one by one, and as I left, I glanced to the spot where the gunshots were being fired. There were two large body bags. We waited inside the motel's dingy little office while my father was being interviewed outside. I stared as the place was being ribboned with police tape and wondered who was in those body bags. A cop came to me and turned on his recorder. "I'm very sorry you had to witness that. May I ask you some questions?" I corrected him and told him I didn't witness anything. He asked me what I saw, what I heard, what I knew. How could I answer anything but the obvious? "I woke up because I heard a gunshot. My father saw the rest." After he realized I was a pretty useless witness, he continued to interview my father. "Are we going to be on the news?" my brother asked. "I hope not. I'm just happy we're safe", I replied, giving him the biggest hug my body could muster. He gave me a disgusted look, but I was overwhelmed with joy that my family was alive. My father eventually came back into the office and told us briefly what happened.
Two men had died in a shoot out in front of our motel room. One of the men was a cop who gave his life to protect ours. He was the one that yelled at my father to get back inside the room in fear that my father would get shot. The other man was a stranger. A tall, lanky stranger who had no empathy for human life. A stranger who stayed in the room next to ours.
A stranger with a rifle.