Everyone spoke in hushed tones, they rushed through their words so they jumbled together in my mind. Their blurry faces disappeared and reappeared in my view too quickly for me to recognize their faces. In the rush I made out certain words, death, weapon, Parallax, and danger. Everyone sounded concerned, and rightfully so. I’m so young, but I can understand a vast majority of what has occurred here tonight. I’ve witnessed a murder, a gruesome and traumatizing experience. I’m an orphan now, or at least I think that’s what it’s called when a child is without parents.
I’m looking up at the sky, a faceless woman holds me gently in her arms while everyone around me talks worriedly. A hood covered her face, covering all their faces. What are they hiding from? The hoods did little to ease my fears, I want my mom.
There’s a knock on the door, and everyone stopped talking. We waited in silence, I knew somehow that I’m not supposed to make noise. I’m so young, but I understood enough that it’s my place now to be seen and not heard. At the sound of the rattling doorknob I found myself even more nervous, and I really wanted my mom.
The door opened, and there’s an angry grumble of a voice. He’s not happy to be woken up at this time. Urgency is spoken, my eyes fluttered shut. I’m very tired, it’s very late and I’ve had a long day. The man’s voice is still angry, he’s not listening to the fearful tone in the woman’s voice that holds me. They speak too fast for me to hear, or maybe I have hearing loss from all of the screams. My mom’s screams, as they begged for the dark looming figure to spare me. I don’t know. Another woman speaks up, she seems soft compared to the angry man at the door. He’s not happy with what she is saying, so far it seems that not much makes this man happy.
I’m passed from one woman’s arms to another, this new woman holds me tightly and I feel safe. I wish it was my mother’s arms, but I know I will never be held by my mother again; that much I do understand. I look away from the stars to the new woman’s face, it is shadowed in the night but I can make out cinnamon-colored hair that dangles in curls. Just like my mother’s hair. She smiles at me, but I am too sad and too tired to smile back.
A hooded face peers over me, blocking my view from the kind woman. I can see this person’s face but their presence makes my skin grow cold.
His presence spikes the most amount of fear I’ve felt since watching my mom’s body crumble. This fear makes my tummy grow very hot, and my hands begin to tingle. Golden light comes from me then, it pours from me and lightens the man’s face. He has brown eyes and a thin pressed mouth, he’s one of the people who burst into my home and scared the murdering figure away. They were too late.
“She will not remember by morning.” He said, his voice low and silky. Then he reaches out and touches my forehead lightly, my body lights up with electricity; from my head to my toes. At his touch the golden light vanishes, and I’m left feeling empty. His face disappears and so does the presence of the other people outdoors, a fogginess fills my head and I have to wonder what that man did to me.
The kind woman walks into her house, her husband grumbling as he shuts the door behind us. Behind my eyelids I still see the looming figure of the man who took my mommy, but numbness takes over as I finally fell asleep.