My Worst Nightmare

Part 1

Death is different for everyone. For some, it is a celebration of lives for the ones that have passed, and for others it is a tragedy. Death for me is all too familiar.

It all started with the death of my grandma on my mother's side. She died of pancreatic cancer at the age of 45. Then my mother's dad passed away in a car accident a few years later. He was 48.  The streak continued when my mother passed away. I was only three years old at the time, so I don't really remember her, I just remember small things she used to do for us (me and my dad). My mother would bake when she was sad, happy, or even angry. To say the least, our house smelled of brownies for days. When she passed, it didn't affect me because I was so young. The day of her funeral, there was a lot of people crying and hugging. My mother was lying in a coffin, as  peaceful as I had ever seen her. She looked like she was sleeping. That was the last time I ever saw her.

Flash-forward, and twelve years later there are three more deaths in the family  (Great Aunt Joanne, Grandpa Pierce, and my second cousin). Little did I know, my father would be next.

It was a rather nice day for the fall: high sixties, sunny, not a cloud in the sky. Days like these were rare for New York City in late October. The day started out like any other day. I woke up, got  breakfast from the Starbucks on 33rd street, and then I would take the subway to school. Then my dad would meet me and we would go out for coffee and talk about our days, but that afternoon, my dad wasn't there instead was a  policeman and some lady that was part of Social Services. That conversation is still fresh in my mind. I recall how the policeman gave me look filled with so much pity, I wanted to slap him. I didn't need anything from anyone, and the last thing I needed was someones sympathy. This was meant to happen, right?  Doesn't everything in life happen for a reason? It is what it is. My father died. He was gone, but the thing that changed everything was the way he died.

October 29th, 2008

The officer's mustache was similar to Charlie Chaplin's, or at least that's what I thought. When he opened his  mouth, his mustache would rise. He spoke to me in a gentle, parenting tone as if I was five not fifteen. "I'm afraid that something has happened to your father, Charles Pierce. His body was found a couple of hours ago. He was murdered, we haven't tracked down the killer yet, but have started searching for clues and taking DNA tests right away. I am very sorry for your loss. I know that it is a lot to take in right now, but......"

I stopped listening. It was too much to take in. Someone had killed my father. What did my father do to deserve this? Was it accidental or on purpose? He didn't seem like the kind of man to have enemies.  I realized two things at that moment. One: that I was probably going to die young, and two: that I am now an orphan. I am all alone. I look at the officer, but I can't hear what he's saying. Its like I am watching old black and white movies with no sound. That was another tradition. Every Saturday my father would take us to some old theater in downtown Manhattan. There we would watch the silent films and eat over buttered popcorn.  Am I ever going to see those movies again? Probably not, I never liked them anyways, the only reason I went to go see them was for my father.

The officer motioned for the lady in the suit to come over. The lady gave me a smile, but it was forced and a weak one at that. They lady looked tired, not just from fatigue, but from life in general. Her hair was dark (darker than mine is) with tints of gray at the roots. The lady wasn't necessarily pretty, but I don't know if you would consider people who are middle aged pretty. Lets put it this way, when I look at her I don't want to gouge my eyes out of my head. She also looked very annoyed. Well, it really is a shame that my father had to be killed so then you had to show up and actually do your job. Can you at least try and look like you care a little bit, lady?  "Hello, I am Linda. I understand that this must be really hard, but if you need anything we are all here for you. The police want to take you in for questioning"-  She explains further about the questioning once she sees the look of dismay written on my face.-" Oh, no don't worry. They just want to ask you some questions about your father. To see if maybe you remember some things that may help them further in the investigation. Anyways, after that then we can take you back to your home so that you can pack some clothes-"