Laura's Past

This is a bit of a work-in-progress.  Disregard any grammar mistakes, or any awkward wording.  I'll fix those later when I'm a bit more alert XD I'll eventually add more, but I don't want this post to be too long.  I'm guessing that I'm about ten and Johnny is about eight.  

                It had happened again.  Laura knew it as soon as she walked through the front door of her house.  Everything was eerily silent and her parents were nowhere to be seen.  She went into the kitchen and discovered the table and chairs had been overturned and scattered about the room.  Moving more quickly now, Laura walked into the bedroom she shared with her little brother.  A note had been stuck on her pillowcase.  It was in her mother’s handwriting; “pick up Johnny and meet me at the Corner Café.”  Laura crumpled the note in her hand and slipped it into her pocket.  She whirled around the house, grabbing all the cash she could find and stuffing it into a backpack.  She began walking at a brisk pace to the local elementary school. 

                She stormed into the after school program room, snatched Johnny’s hand, and dragged him towards the door.  The young woman who was in charge of watching the children stood up and began to protest, but Laura swerved around her and kept walking.  Keeping a firm grip on her brother’s hand, Laura continued down the sidewalk and eventually reached the Corner Café.  She found her mother sitting on a barstool, head resting on the back wall of the small café.  As soon as Laura reached her mother, all the energy that had been keeping her going since she had entered the house drained out of her.  Her mother jerked awake and shakily put her arms around her children, her family. 

                Together they walked to the local train station, and Laura’s mother purchased one adult ticket and two children’s tickets.  “Where are we going mommy?” Laura asked sleepily, rubbing her tired eyes. 

                “Far away,” her mother answered, and Laura left it at that. 

                Laura happily took the seat near the window on the train and immediately pressed her nose up against the Plexiglas to look outside.  Laura’s mother kept Johnny in her lap, even though he was getting much too old for that.  Eventually both Johnny and her mother fell asleep, and Laura turned from the window to study them.  On her mother’s left shoulder, the one closest to her, there was a livid bruise that was just beginning to spread.  Five finger marks could clearly be seen on her mother’s smooth skin.  Laura frowned a bit at that sight, and then put her head down on the armrest in between the two seats and fell asleep.

                When they reached their destination, her mother found a small motel and tucked her children into the bed. For weeks the small family traveled around, moving from motel to motel, using their meager supply of money on food.  Eventually, Laura’s mother got a job working as a clerk in a grocery store.  They rented a single room of an apartment from a local gardener who couldn’t afford the rent by himself.  Both the gardener and their mother were gone all day long, so Laura and Johnny had to amuse themselves by wandering the local neighborhood.  One morning Johnny wasn’t feeling very well, so Laura’s mom decided to stay home to care for him.  She told Laura to watch him while she made some soup in the small kitchen.  Laura was sitting with her brother in the corner of the room when she heard the door open.  She figured the gardener was home early, so she disregarded it right away.  Suddenly the sound of her mother’s scream pierced the air and the pot banged on the floor with a sickening sloshing sound.  Laura jumped up and ran to the kitchen, her brother trailing behind her on weak legs. 

                Standing over their mother, in the middle of the tiny apartment kitchen, stood their father.  He had a thick, black handgun gripped in his hand.  He looked deliberately at the children, smiled, and then fired two rounds into their mother’s chest.  Laura gasped and began sobbing, pushing Johnny behind her.  Their father grinned at their frightened expressions and fired another quick shot into their mother’s forehead.  “What were you thinking, trying to run away?” the hated voice floated through the air to Laura’s ears that were still ringing from the sound of the gunshots.  He advanced on them, gun hand outstretched, pointed at them.  Laura began edging around him, keeping Johnny behind her.  “Honestly.  You must have known I would find you.”  Images of this evil man throwing her mother around flooded her vision.  How could this have happened to her mother?  Her sweet, loving mother? 

                Laura backed up until she could feel the silverware drawer touching her right arm.  While her father continued to gloat about his kill, Laura silently slipped a large, sharp steak knife from its place in the drawer.  “And now,” her father said, advancing on them, “it’s your turn.”  He pointed the gun directly at Laura’s head.  In one swift movement, she swiped the knife across the delicate tendons on her father’s wrist.  He screamed in agony and collapsed on the ground, clutching his hand.  The gun clattered to the floor.  Police sirens could be heard outside.  All Laura could see now was red.  The red of her father’s blood and her mother’s blood mingling on the kitchen floor.  The last thing she could remember before she lost consciousness was that their blood should never have mixed.  Even if it meant she should never have existed.