Sondra’s eyelids immediately shut when she hit the ground. She was still alive, though. Ms. Sillow was looking to stab her again, but the blade had been driven so deeply into her daughter’s flesh that it became nearly impossible to pull out without the wound first being made larger. Ms. Sillow didn’t struggle to pull it out for too long either. She hastened out of the room to retrieve another blade. Meanwhile, Sondra’s instinct to live kicked in. Once she was certain that her mother had gone out of the room, she mustered up every bit of strength left within her and pulled herself up out of her prostrate position. Immediately to her right was a window. She needed to make a quick escape through that window, for she was in absolutely no condition to fight off a mad woman. Sondra slowly slid the window’s sash up. Every move that she now made was an agonizing one. With what she was certain was her last bit of energy, Sondra closed her eyes and lunged through the open window.
The pain was indescribable. She was in so much pain that she couldn’t even scream - or maybe she just didn’t have the energy to do so. When Sondra opened her eyes, which were now bloodshot red, she was staring down at earth. Half her body awkwardly hung inside the house; the other half outside. The knife lodged in her side had prevented her from clearing through the slender window.
As Sondra heard her mother’s footsteps approaching the room, she hung her head in defeat, and the tears began streaming down her face. In the final moments of her life, Sondra broke down. This was without a doubt the lowest point of her existence. Sure, she had been an addict who could never bounce back. Undoubtedly she wished she had done more to salvage the damaged relationship between her and her mother. But Sondra’s tears on that morning were not shed for herself. She cried because she had failed the boy who had implored her to not leave him with a woman he didn’t feel comfortable being left with some 10 years earlier. She cried because she knew that she had turned out to be just as irresponsible of a parent as her mother was, and Presley suffered because of that. She cried because she was certain that she wasn’t going to see her child in the place she was about to head to in her afterlife. She cried because in her heart, she just knew that her son was dead.