She was drowned, shoved under the water by my own father, her husband. I sat there unable to do anything but watch. I was only four when I saw her die. I can still here her screams today. Her screaming my name trying to say something I couldn’t understand. She screamed my father’s name as well saying she loved him. I never understood that. How could she love the man that was killing her? After a few minutes of her screaming and struggling she died. Just like that the light in her eyes was gone she was just floating in the tub her eyes closed like she just fell asleep in the water and would wake any second.
“Mama?” I whispered. I ran to her and tried shaking her awake; my four year old brain couldn’t comprehend what at just happened. My father stood there looking down at her body he started shaking looking down at his hands. It took me a while to tell that he was crying. I was shocked fathers weren’t supposed to cry he was supposed to be strong and just shake it off. “Daddy, why won’t Mama wake up? Why did you do that!?” He wouldn’t answer me. He picked her up from the tub and took her to their bedroom.
He laid her down on the bed and blow dried her hair. He took off her clothes and changed them to her wedding dress. “We’re going to have a wedding. So you need to go put on your best dress. You’ll be our flower girl.”
“But-” I started.
“Go now!” He shouted, glaring. I ran out of the room but stopped when I heard him talking. “Why doesn’t she listen to me? We shouldn’t have had a kid. If we didn’t have a kid you’d still be alive. It’s all her fault.” He paused as if listening to someone. “You’re right I should get rid of troublesome things.” He stood up grabbing his pocket knife from the nightstand and headed to the door. I was in my room by the time he got to the hall.
I picked out my dress and was about to put it on when he came in. “That’s a nice dress. Come here so I can help you.” He said with his hand behind his back.
“Don’t worry, Daddy. I can do it.” I tried smiling at him, but I was scared and started crying. He looked flustered and put his knife on the floor and gave me a hug.
“Hey, darling, it’s okay. I’m sure the dress will look great on you.” He reached for the knife, but I grabbed it before him and ran downstairs. I ran to the front door but he grabbed me before I could open it. I started swiping the knife blindly trying to get him to let go. I heard a scream and opened my eyes. I had cut his wrist and it was bleeding really badly.
I finally got a chance so I ran to the neighbor’s house and banged on their door as hard as I could. When they answered it they looked annoyed then shocked. They ushered me in and called the police. I don’t remember much after that, but I do remember watching my father be dragged out of the house screaming my mother’s name.
