I could only register one feeling as I limped into the alley. Pain. My body was on fire and I didn't know what to do with myself. I grabbed my side and winced as pain shot through my body again. I felt tears form in my eyes and fall like raindrops on my cheeks. That bastard stabbed me in the side. Although I'll admit that I was lucky that's all he got a chance to do. He would have done more had I not swung the lamp at his head. Too bad it only knocked him out. I would take the life sentence if I knew the bastard was dead. I didn't stick around long enough to find out. I gasped as the pain made me fall to my knees. Ok deep breathing. Inhale. Exhale. I knew that I had probably broken my ankle in the scuffle before I got cut. I was too busy trying to stop the raining blows to my face to worry about my balance.
It was only after I tripped into wall that he tried to take my life. I had no idea how much pain I was in until I had time to stop and think about it. My face hurt. My entire body hurt. A new set of tears started as I touched my lip. I was so pissed off. I couldn't believe what had just happened. Getting back up, I limped about until I put too much pressure on my ankle and stumbled. Again with the tears. This situation was honestly just so stressful and I was more emotional than usual. I didn't know where I was going or where I was. I just had to get away as quick as possible. I stumbled into an old dark car shop. Maybe it wasn't a car shop. Whatever. I had made it somewhere safe. I relished in the thought and fell to my knees silently thanking God or Allah or whoever was in the sky taking pity on me. Now if only he would let me make it to see tomorrow.
I crawled further in the room careful to stay away from the entrance just in case he did come looking for me. I knew that if he wanted, he would find me. It was only a matter of when he did. He had found me before and he had found me again. I would never be safe from him. He had dangerous connections with important people. He had told me many times, he could kill me and never physically touch me. I didn't have to wonder if he had killed before. He wore the truth proudly sketched on his face. I only knew that he spoke the truth when he said my days would come to an end if I didn't do what he said. Life hadn't always been like this.
My parents loved me deeply. They wanted nothing but the best for me and gave me anything I asked for. They had hopes and dreams for me to be something. I was well on my track. I had it all. The boyfriend, the friends, the popularity, the money and the life everyone craved. 2 weeks after graduating and getting into the school of my dreams, my world crashed down.
I saw a door in the corner of the open space and crawled to it. I was careful to avoid my ankle. Crying was so draining. I didn't think I had any extra fluids to spare. I grabbed the door handle and hoisted myself up crying out loud as the pain shot through my side like splinters. I limped through the door and wiped at my forehead. I was dripping sweat. I needed to find a phone and call somebody. I looked around the tiny office and spotted a phone on the desk. Call who? The question played over and over in my mind until my own conscience answered me. Nobody. Nobody would come for me. They didn't come the day I lost everything and they wouldn't come now. I had nobody in this world, but myself. I slid down the doorframe onto my knees and crawled to the desk in the office. I thought about my parents. They would be so disappointed in me. I wasn't supposed to be here. I was supposed to be at college. I was supposed to be something.
I let my mind flash back to the day I lost everything.
--
I pulled into the driveway with my phone between my shoulder and ear and sighed out loud. I hated that I waited to do everything today that should have been done weeks ago.
"It's ok Mia, we still have plenty of time," Jessica commented through the phone.
"We kind of don't. I am such a dummy for procrastinating," I moaned.
I walked into my house and yelled for my parents. I needed money to buy a bathing suit and I needed their permission to stay out all night. Jess's boyfriend Andrew was throwing a going away pool party and I just had to have a new suit. I wasn't worried though. I knew daddy would tell me yes, he said image was everything.
"I look horrible," I said fluffing my hair.
I looked into the hall mirror and frowned at my appearance. It was scorching outside so my freshly straightened hair had curled up in the front and gave me an "I just woke up" look. Any contact with water and my hair snapped into curls. I didn't have bad hair. Not at all. If anything I had beautiful hair, but I preferred it straight rather than its natural state. A big curly afro. My mother kept urging me to leave my hair alone because one day I would miss my curls like she did but my dad said to live and let live. I looked at my green eyes and smiled at the way they stood out against my brown skin. Most people thought I was mixed because of my distinct features. They automatically assumed I was Indian or mixed with Indian. I loved to correct them. I am black. Only black. Fully black and I love my black. I was a spitting image of my mother. Just like her, I was golden brown with curly jet black hair and green eyes. We shared the same lips, eyes, nose and dimples. I was my mother's twin. I had my father's mentality and attitude. Now, I wasn't spoiled nor was I stuck up. I was raised to be humble and thankful but I would not let anybody mess over me.
"Um hello?" Jess screamed.
"Oops. Sorry," I laughed.
I yelled for my parents again. Both of their cars were there, so why weren't they answering? I ran upstairs and searched for my parents irritated that I was being ignored. I ran back downstairs and tripped over my foot angry that I couldn't find them.
"Where the hell are they?" I said out loud.
"This is probably another game of Hide-N-Seek. Kitchen?" Jessica asked through the phone.
This was our thing. They would hide from me all day, sneaking around the house until I found them. Unfortunately, I wasn't in a playing mood. I only had 2 hours to find a new suit and the mall was 40 minutes away. I stomped angrily in the kitchen and screamed for them again. I saw that the walk-in pantry door was cracked and shook my head while thinking they were losing their touch. They never made their spot so obvious. Something felt wrong but I chose to ignore that tingling in my stomach. My irritation quickly turned into humor as I silently made my way to the pantry more than ready to find them. I flung open the door and saw my parents lying there in a pool of blood. I dropped my phone screaming and scrambled back running out the house and collapsing on the yard. I sobbed and screamed my lungs out fully aware that I was making a scene. My neighbor, Mrs. Brighton, ran over and sat next to me shaking me.
"What is wrong Mia? Talk to your Granny," she said using the nickname I stopped calling her years ago.
"Parents in kitchen dead," I choked out.
I watched her run into the house and sobbed harder because I knew her heart would break at the scene. She loved my parents like they were her children. I put my face in my hands and screamed, not caring that I looked like I had lost my mind. I heard the door slam open and looked up to see Mrs. Brighton holding her heart and walking towards me. I stood up and ran to her, my legs giving up a quarter of the way there. She caught me in her arms and prayed over me as I screamed and begged God to wake me up. The next couple of hours were a blur.
"It seems somebody murdered the Johnsons in what appeared to be a home invasion," the news reporter said. "The community is in an uproar. People are terrified for their houses and for their lives. The Johnson's daughter Amiah has made no comment on the death of her parents."
It had been only hours since I found my parent's body's. I sat in the back of the cops car to numb to feel and too broken to speak. All I could think was the way the reporter said my name wrong. A-My-Ya. That isn't my name. My name is Ah-Me-Yah. It was a mixture of my parent's name. Ahmad and Me'yani. I would never hear my parents say my name again. My dad's partner met me at the station with tears in his eyes and offered his condolences. In the end they ruled my parent's murder as a homicide and closed the case after finding no leads. My dad gave that force 20 years of his life and they gave him 2 weeks of theirs.
I snapped out of thought as I heard the door slam open and voices pour through. My side was throbbing but it was no match for the panic that raced through my body and sent my heart trying to jump out my chest. I could barely feel the pain as I prayed I wouldn't be found by him.
"Where's my money Ricky?" I heard a deep voice say. "You know I hate when people steal from me."
