Today was the moment of truth. My father's birthday. Today was an odd day. My father never drinks on his birthdays, but he becomes a depressed madman. He lays in bed all day, rambling incoherently to himself. Every once in a while you catch the name "Melissa". And though I truly hated this man, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness whenever I looked at him. Or maybe it was just the fact that my mother died this day 4 years ago. I decided I'd enlist Elle in taking care of my father today. A farewell gift; if Grandma actually came. So this time we made him breakfast, cleaned his room, and even found an old frame to put the old picture of our mother in. We found the picture resting on the nightstand next to my father's bed. The picture was damp. He must have been crying. After me and Elle were done with our gift, we decided we'd occupy the living room until father woke up. We even got to watch some cartoons on the old TV we had! Elle liked to watch the old Roadrunner reruns, laughing when another one of the coyote's plans backfired. The day flew by while we lounged in front of the TV. I once heard somewhere that "time flies when you're having fun". I think my mom said that one time, and I finally had the chance to understand. At one point our father came out and sat on the couch. He had a far off look and continued murmuring to himself. There were still no signs of our Grandma coming to save us, or that she even cared. But at the moment Elle was safe, and I was safe. So I guess everything was okay. It'd reached 11:30, and our father was now pacing back and forth in the room. Between his mumbles he'd sometimes shout "What do I do?! Mellisa where are you?!". Minutes ticked by. "What do I do?!" He'd began getting violent. He flipped our desk over. Threw our ancient fishbowl across the room. I jumped when it clashed against the wall, releasing the all-familiar noise of glass shattering. By now my mind was in overdrive. I had to get Elle out. I had to get Elle out. Our father was standing in the doorway. There was no way out. I think that sometimes we do things out of love for the people we know. It's as if we're possessed by something inside of our bodies that forces us to commit senseless actions. It's this force that drove me directly at my father, fists clenched. Adrenaline rushed through me. My only objective was to allow Elle an escape from this tyrant. He'd truly gone insane. I was easily brushed aside by my father. He threw me against a wall, and it felt like a vibration was sent throughout my body. I slipped to the ground and looked up, happy to see my father take a step towards me. I was unable to get up. I had no clue why. My entire body was numb, but my mind was active. If only the numbness saved me from my father, who had now picked me up by the back of my shirt and sent a fist into my stomach. The oxygen fled from my body and I gasped for breath. He threw me to the ground. I wheezed. Was this how life was going to end? Then I turned my head towards the chair I'd occupied just minutes before and my eyes froze. Elle was still there. Trembling. I fought against my body to get back on my feet, but I couldn't do it. My father lumbered over me. "Why did you have to kill my Melissa?!" He yelled at me angrily. The words hung in the air. They were worse than any blow I could ever take. My father had just accused me of killing my own mother. A tear slid down my cheek, but I was fighting to stay strong. I couldn't give in yet. "Elle run!" I screamed, my voice cracking between words. She'd stopped shaking and began to get off the chair without a question. Poor Elle. She had no clue at all what was going on around her. Following whatever order she was given like an obidient child. I loved her more than anything in this world. She'd now began to speed towards the door, but my outburst had also diverted my father's attention to her. He was now following after her and lifted her up with one hand by the collar of her shirt before she could even make it half way across the room. "WHY DID YOU KILL HER?!" He screamed. Elle was crying. I was crying. Our father was crying. He began to tremble again, but his hand moved up around her neck. Suddenly I heard a siren. It's wails came closer and closer until I could hear them outside our home. Our father continued to yell. "It's all your fault!!" "I'm going to kill you with my own two hands!!" his fists clenched Elle's throat, drawing every last breath from her body. I heard the door slam open in the other room. Grandma must have made it after all. Through blurry eyes I saw a woman in what looked like her early 60s rush into the room with a police officer who held a gun up to my father. My father who never took notice to the cop began laughing. It was a maniacal laugh. "See Melissa? I'm going to avenge you!" The next minute happened as if it was in slow motion. My father threw Elle across the room. Her petite figure smashed against our bookshelf, which tumbled down on top of her. My father was shot by the police man. My grandmother was at my side yelling my name. My eyes became fixed on the bookshelf laying atop my sister. I tried to scream her name, but no noise was made. The policeman was now lifting the bookshelf up and tossed it to the side. I glanced over at the lifeless body that was my father. And then back at the body of my sister, who's chest wasn't moving at all. The clock struck midnight.
You know I've never believed in miracles. In fact, being pretty much parentless and abused daily gave me reason to believe there was no God at all. I first came in contact with the world outside of our property when my grandmother rushed me to the hospital, following closely behind the ambulance that contained Elle. We didn't talk much. She was focused on the road and I was in some kind of daze, blankly staring into space. Yet again, I was the reason my dear sister was hurt. Why couldn't I ever do anything right? I couldn't remove the seatbelt fast enough once we reached the hospital. My grandmother forced me to take her hand. It comforted me, almost like having a real parent again. We sat in the hospital waiting room for hours that night. My grandmother had almost taken me home with her, when at 5 AM a nurse walked out of a door at the other side of the room and beckoned to us to follow her. We were led down a series of halls into the intensive care unit. We were allowed entry into Elle's room. My heart raced. She was alive! I rushed into the room and sat in a chair next to her bed, slipping my index finger into her miniature hand. I watched her sleep for quite some time, unable to sleep myself. I never even noticed when grandma left the room. She came back a few hours later and told me she had good news to share when Elle woke up. She also forced me to sleep once she saw the dark circles under my eyes. By the time I woke up it was already evening again. I readjusted myself in my chair so that I was out of a slouching position. "Good morning Trevor!" Elle's voice rang in my ears. "Why you sleep so long?" She asked. I couldn't find the words to answer her, instead standing and planting a kiss on her cheek and hugging her gently. She winced and I released, returning to my chair. Grandma came in a few minutes after. "Oh good! You're awake!" She exclaimed. She strode towards me and handed me a Turkey sandwich from the hospital cafeteria and gave a large teddy bear from the gift shop to Elle. "I'm so happy I was able to make it In time. I was unsure whether to believe you or not, until my curiousity got the best of me. I'm so glad to finally meet you two." She spoke in a gentle, welcoming tone. Her warm smile invited our affection. Then she sighed and the loving smile was replaced with a heartbreaking frown. "I never knew your father was so unstable. I wish I'd have known. I would've helped." She dropped her head in shame. "And now he's dead." It wasn't the meaning of the words that shocked me, but the fact that I felt no remorse whatsoever. The only thought, which was actually very selfish, is what would happen to Elle and I? We couldn't live in an orphanage. I'd rather live under a bridge than an orphanage. But it seemed my grandma could read minds. "On a happy note, I wanted to tell you both that I've filled out the paperwork today and I'll be adopting you." 3 months later -------------- Me and Elle finally had a home where we could be children again. Our grandma must be rich, because soon after moving in she took each of us on a shopping spree. We bought toys, clothes, and even school supplies! At the end of the summer Elle and I would be starting school. Elle showed no sign of memories of our troubled lives before, except the occasional nightmare. I on the other hand was still coming around. It's hard to believe the contrast from now to just a few short months ago. We both returned to a healthy weight. Neither of us were hit. Not once. Whenever one of us would get sick, grandma would nurse us back to health with her home remedies. Our grandma was religious. She prayed daily and encouraged me and Elle to do the same. Elle jumped on the offer the first time she was asked. Maybe she thought it was a game. I on the other hand didn't start until a month ago. Now I knew this new life wasn't too good to be true. Now I had a reason to believe in God. And miracles do happen. ------- Story end? :$ I hope it was a good first story :3