Forever Changed

chapter 4



I watched my mother walk up the stairs and listened for the door to close. I washed my hands and made me a sandwich. I was starving from all the digging I had done and I was only part of the way done with what I needed to do. I was exhausted and very angry.

How could she leave me to all of this mess? Ugh, I prayed she died in her sleep

tonight. I prayed hard, too! What kind of mother would do this to her own family? There are so many questions that needed answers. With renewed motivation and a full stomach I was determined to find them!

Carefully, I started taking everything out of my father’s pockets, which contained three thousand dollars and a piece of paper that he had rolled up with a rubber band. I didn’t think anything of it and just stuffed it into my own pocket.

I rolled his body gently over and removed his wallet from his back pocket. I opened it and the first thing I saw was a picture of him and me. It was taken a couple of weeks ago. I am a photographer and I am always taking pictures. I had been playing on the computer and had made that picture with ‘Daddy’s Little Girl, Always.’ It was the only one in his wallet. A fresh wave of tears flooded my eyes while looking at it.

Of course, he had his driver’s license, insurance cards; our social security cards a few different bank cards, and about five credit cards. There was also a check for four thousand dollars and he had three thousand dollars, in cash, in his wallet. That left me with ten thousand dollars all together. I placed his wallet in my pocket.

Then, I slid his wedding ring off of his finger and the demonic skull ring off his other hand. I placed them on my gold chain that I always wore around my neck.

I got up and walked slowly and quietly upstairs to my little hidden room. I wanted to get my spare camera. I grabbed it and walked back down.

As bad as I hated to, I took pictures of the murder scene. The blood and brains on the wall, the door frame, the carpet, my little hiding spot in the closet, and of course, my father’s dead body. It was horrible I know, but for some reason I needed to do this. I set the self- timer and took a picture of myself holding his feet. I placed the camera around my neck and started dragging my father to the back door.

He was not a heavy man and I was thankful for this, but I was being easy with him as well; I didn’t want to hurt him. I dragged him through the storm to his grave, in the garden. When I got there I stopped long enough to grab my camera and take pictures of my father and his grave. The lightening gave it a good effect and I was excited to see the outcome, however long that would be before I could bring myself to develop the film.

With each step I made, I took pictures. I took pictures of me placing his body in his grave, covering it with the mud, and then kneeling by the side crying. I sat there in the rain next to my father’s grave, talking to him, and crying hard. I already felt miserably alone.

What was I going to do? I knew there was something my father needed to tell me. He was smiling at me while my mother yelled at him and he was still smiling when she pulled the trigger! I needed to find out, but first I had to finish with the mess and then get some sleep.

I headed back in the house and took pictures of the blood trail that was left behind, from dragging his body to the back door. I took pictures of the murder scene without his body. I grabbed a bucket of hot water and bleach. I started cleaning up the bloody mess.

I gagged when wiping the brains off the wall and the floor. I found part of his ear and chunks of his hair everywhere. I took pictures of myself cleaning the mess and also when I vomited. Every detail I captured on my film roll. I have no idea why I did this, but something told me I needed to, and I always go with my gut feeling.

When I was finished, after six hours of disposing of my father’s body and cleaning, I headed up the stairs to my own room. I stopped by my parent’s room on the first floor and heard my mother snoring. I continued up to my room and shut the door softly behind me. I emptied my pockets out into my dresser drawer. I didn’t want my mother to find all that money. I then proceeded to my bathroom. I turned on the hot water, undressed, and got into the shower. The water was scorching hot, but I was so numb from the cold storm and so exhausted that I didn’t care. I stood there after washing all the blood off of me, until the water turned cold.

I was exhausted and sore. I got out of the shower, dressed, and laid down in my bed. I wrapped myself up in my big thick black comforter and cried. Darkness engulfed me. I fell asleep.