Broken Silence

It was so quiet. My little sister was still crying, but almost silently. I am sure I was upset and I was probably crying as well. But I do not remember feeling that. I remember being afraid, but at the same time needing to be strong for my sister, for my Mom, for Don and for me. Through the silence I began to hear voices and what sounded like knocking at the front door. They were different voices-one's I had never heard before, but ones that were not frightening. I was still unsure of what to do, but I knew I could not stay in the bathroom forever. I heard what I thought was the little voice in my head telling me "open the door...open the door...open the door" over and over again. I told my sister to stay in the bathroom and not to move until I came back, and I slowly opened the bathroom door. I heard the voice telling me to open the door again. It wasn't in my head, it was coming from the carpet in front of the bathroom door in the hallway. It was coming out of Don-so was a lot of blood-he was hurt. His neck was gone, and his eyes were closed, but he was telling me to go open the door, so I went. I was so, I don't know, shocked I guess by the way he looked that I didn't even noticed my Mom at first. She was lying just a few feet further down the hall, half in the hall and half in the kitchen. She was face down sort of curled up like she had tripped over something and fell down face forward. She had the phone in her hand still up to her ear like she had fallen asleep using the phone. I didn't see any blood at first, but I knew she was not asleep. I looked at her for a split second and someone at the door caught my attention. I snapped my head toward the front door and saw several policemen on our porch asking me to help them get inside. They told me to be careful of the glass. I walked across the kitchen and I remember pushing the chair/stool up to the door. I do not remember what I had to do or why they could not get in, but after I got down from the stool a rush of people came inside. The first policeman helped me back across the kitchen and then took me back to the bathroom with my sister. I was still naked. He helped me get a towel and we got my sister out of the tub. Then he asked me to show him our bedroom so we could get dressed. (and so the others could get the scene under control) I had to call my Grandmother Omie. She was my Mom's Mom. I had to tell her that Fred had come to our house and shot Mom and Don. I told her that they took them to the hospital, and I told her I thought Mom was dead. I told her she needed to come to our house. My Dad came too, someone called him but it was not me. No one told me my Mom had died, I just knew. When they walked us out to take us downstaris to the landlords for questioning and stuff we had to walk past the whole scene again. They one cop carried my sister, but I walked. I saw the pool of blood. I saw the tape outline. The rest of the night was a blur of people and activity and questions and questions and questions. I had to tell so many people over and over again what happened. I didn't mind, but I was tired. Why did I have to keep saying it over and over again? Could'nt someone write it down?