𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 || 𝐋𝐨𝐮𝐢𝐬 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞

𝟐𝟓

Illıllı

𝐘/𝐍 ✧˚ · .

The Film Maker Massacre happened in New York; my dad was attending an event. He was excited as he was bought a ticket to be able to meet other film makers like him. He told me before he left that he enjoyed spending time with me and my friends filming small little films. At the time the friends were Darris and Wyatt. Maybe even Jax, but I can't really remember him on that day. Overall, Wyatt and Darris had watched a bit too much TV like me and our minds were always on watching movies. Sometimes we would go to a park and skate around as we would try to balance on one skateboard, it wasn't ever possible.

He would drive us over there, but when the distance was too far, he would leave us behind to fly to a new state. He was mainly looking forward to meeting the director of his favorite movie, Peter Weir of The Dead Poet's Society. I think Darris, Wyatt, and I came to love that movie a lot more the fifth time we watched it. We had decided that night, that we would go to Wyatt's uncle's apartment and watch the movie again. A thick case of a VHS tape that we would carry around for the movie, my dad didn't really enjoy the DVD's coming out or the digital copies so in his honor we watched it on VHS.

I remember the night clearly. Darris threw up the popsicle liquid he ate, and Wyatt was continuing to eat his popsicle as Darris was throwing up in the bathroom. I was sitting in front of the TV watching as the characters were kicking a soccer ball to the command of their teacher. That had become my favorite scene, and I remember it every day.

"Don't you think it's a little crazy that Neil would want to act?" Darris' soft small voice rang through the empty room that was mainly just for watching movies and having couches on the side. "Why can't Neil act? Don't be a dumbass Dar anyone can act, you're just like his father." Wyatt was passionate about the film too, also with the fact that he had just learned how to cuss properly and not in every sentence he spoke. He was a crazy addict to the movie until he saw Jennifer's Body and decided that women were more of his peak interest in movies and not the morals of the beautiful movies we would watch when we were younger.

So, while we were in our dream land of movies, popcorn, and cold popsicles that we would let melt in our hands, my dad was lying in a pool of his own blood.

He had made it to the event. His friends made it too. They were happy. And then they were all dead.

Some people would tell me that everything was going to be okay, the person was put in jail. He was on drugs and decided that that day he would go in and use a handgun to murder twenty people. My dad was one of the 20, and I was unaware of it because my mom didn't call me home. I walked there myself, very independent at a young age, trying to make sure I finished the popcorn I had in a plastic bag before the neighborhood mutts tried to steal it from me. They were small dogs that I was afraid of, but when they died, I still went to their funeral.

That was also the time that Wyatt taught me how to flip someone off, so being young, I went to the funeral for the dogs and flipped off the pile of dirt that was laying on top of the dead dog. I was unaware of the things I was doing, but I wouldn't really take it to heart.

I just made my way home, breathing in the cold Chicago air. As I passed others with big coats, they would smile at me and wave. In my opinion, they were all giving me a sign to go back and never go home. Never find out about my dad, but also never say goodnight to my mom. I made my way home though and I realized that my mom was on the couch. She had a nice brown bottle next to her. A couple empty ones as I dropped my bag on the floor. She was crying.

She didn't explain it to me, I had to figure it out all by myself. So sometimes that's why I would despise my mom, she didn't really explain anything to me and that's why I learned about sex and periods from Wyatt.