Eden listened intently. She was so engrossed that she didn’t realize that her mouth was wide open.

“This is better than a damn movie.” Eden thought as she hung on to every word for dear life.

My mother was the only woman I knew that loved to grill. She’d cook on the grill 5-6 times a week. The day she was murdered; she had just taken our steaks, potatoes, and corn off the grill.

“Josiah, turn that Gameboy off and Jermaine go wash your hands. The food is ready.”

“Ok Ma,” I said before going down the hall to the guest bathroom. I wasn’t in the bathroom for thirty seconds before I heard,

CRASH!

“You thought you was gonna leave me bitch!”

“Jerry! No!!”

BOOM!

Eden nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of Jermaine’s loud outburst.

“Jerry had tracked us down,”

He had never spoken about the things he witnessed and now that he was, he couldn’t stop. He needed to purge himself.

“At the sound of the first shot, I ran down the hall. He shot Josiah in the chest. My mother was wailing, cradling my brothers’ dead body. There was so much blood that it looked black.

I watched her try to scoop blood and bone fragments back in his tiny chest and breathe in his mouth. She rocked him back-and-forth, calling his name, trying to get him to wake up, but Josiah was gone. I was frozen. Paralyzed from shock and fear.

While my mom was cradling their dead son, my father was grinning like it was the funniest thing in the world.

He said, “If I hurt, you hurt too!”

I never knew what that meant because my mom had never done anything to hurt him or anyone else. Jerry looked so demonic. Eyes bloodshot, pupils as large as the irises, nose running. But I could tell my mom didn’t hear him. She was too busy apologizing to Josiah and me. Screaming “I’m sorry,”

But Jerry kept laughing. He turned around, sniffed the air, and grabbed one of the steaks and ears of corn that we were supposed to have for dinner. He said, “This is a damn good dinner Andy,” He sat there eating dinner while my mother cried over their child. He just didn’t seem to care. It’s like Josiah always rubbed him the wrong way.

After he killed my brother, ate our food, he raised his shotgun and shot my mother in the face. Then he pulled her pants down, inserted the barrel and pulled the trigger again. I literally watched him insert the barrel of a shotgun in between her legs and blow the top half of her body across the room. There was nothing left of her. You’ll never understand how much I hate my father.