Have you ever experienced a moment where your world completely flips upside down, catching you off guard? It's like the happiest day of your life suddenly transforms into the most painful and unforgettable one. Well, let me tell you, that's exactly what happened to me.
I was overflowing with joy and excitement for my parents' wedding anniversary. I decided to put on some eyeliner and light makeup, which was quite unusual for me since I'm not really into heavy makeup. It's just not my style, you know? But my mom always says that a touch of eyeliner enhances the beauty of my big blue eyes.
Speaking of which, it's quite crazy, really. I'm the only one in my family with blue eyes. Both my dad, mom, and even my brother Brian have beautiful brown eyes and brown hair. But me? I've got these mesmerizing blue eyes that resemble the vastness of the ocean.
Anyway, back to the story. I was getting all dolled up to visit the artist. I had been saving up to commission a portrait of my parents. It was going to be the first-ever gift I would give them with my own hard-earned money. I had been working tirelessly since my 15th birthday, tutoring my classmates to earn some extra cash.
After brushing my long white hair, I took one last look at myself in the mirror, twirling my frock back and forth. Satisfied with my overall appearance, I hurriedly made my way to Elizabeth's studio. Oh, I forgot to mention, Elizabeth is the talented artist who was creating the portrait for my parents. "This is absolutely stunning, Elizabeth!" I exclaimed, unable to contain my excitement as I hopped on my toes, clasping my hands together under my chin.
My heart was racing with anticipation as I couldn't wait to show my parents the beautiful gift I had gotten for them. However, I found myself a bit torn. Should I surprise them with the portrait as soon as I get home? Or should I wait until the cake-cutting ceremony? The decision was weighing on my mind, but one thing was for sure - this day was about to become even more unforgettable.
Anyway, I managed to bring the painting home without any trouble. It wasn't too big, so I carried it easily. "Mom! Dad! Look what I got you!" I held the painting against my chest and waited for my parents to come down from Brian's room.
"Oh my God, it's beautiful, sweetie!" My mom rushed over to me, and I quickly placed the painting on the table. I knew I was about to get a tight, emotional hug from both of them. Brian, my brother, more like my best friend who was a year older than me, looked at me with an embarrassed smile on his face. I knew the reason of his embarrassment - he had been having a hard time fitting in at his new school after leaving our school. He had been in a fight and had to pay a fine, so he couldn't get anything for our parents' anniversary.
"This is from me and Brian!" I said, smiling. Brian scratched his neck nervously.
My parents extended their hands towards Brian, and we all hugged as a group. Our family was perfect - we were always there for each other and supported each other no matter what. Whether it was about studying or love life, we had each other's backs.
Speaking of love life, I hadn't met anyone who caught my attention the way Sarah caught Brian's. But I thought I was too young for that kind of thing anyway.
Well! The rest of the day went exactly as planned - we had a movie night with pizza, soft drinks, and popcorn, just the four of us. We didn't have a big party or anything, but that was okay. My dad was always so busy, so we cherished the time we had together as a family.
Brian took care of all the decorations, while my parents took charge of slicing the cake. We had everything set up for our movie night, except for one crucial thing... "Pizza!" I exclaimed.
As we arranged the table and prepared the TV, Brian suddenly decided to head to the kitchen to grab some popcorn and drinks. Just as he left, the doorbell rang, interrupting our preparations.
"It must be the pizza!" Brian called out to me. "Zee, could you get that?" With excitement, I jumped off the sofa and hurried to the door.
Opening the door, my excitement quickly turned into a mix of shock and fear. Standing before me was a boy with white hair and golden eyes, holding a gun in his hand. My heart raced, and I couldn't help but tremble at the sight.
"Get your father," he demanded, his voice carrying a weight beyond his years. I mustered up the courage to ask, "Who are you?" However, my question seemed to ignite a fiery anger in his eyes, as if he would harm anyone who dared to cross his path.
"I said get your father!" he growled, his anger evident in his clenched jaw.
Fear gripped me, making it difficult to call for my dad. I had an unsettling feeling that prevented me from reaching out to him. But as fate would have it, sometimes we cannot escape what is destined to happen.
Just as I struggled to find the words, my father appeared at the door. "Who is it, Zinnia?" he asked innocently. However, his expression turned pale when he noticed the boy standing there, gun in hand. "What are you doing here?" my father questioned, his voice filled with concern.
But then, he realized I was still standing beside him. His eyes, empty yet filled with tears, met mine. "Go inside," he urged me, his voice trembling. I wanted to stay by his side, but he insisted, "I promise he won't hurt me... just go!" Reluctantly, I convinced myself to leave him, hoping that everything would be alright.
I hurriedly made my way to where Brian and Mom were, finding solace in the kitchen as we held each other's hands tightly. The voices of Dad and the boy were muffled, but we managed to catch snippets of their conversation.
The boy's voice was filled with anger as he shouted, "How could you do that to me? I trusted you!"
Dad tried to reason with him, urging him to put the gun down and talk things through. But the boy was adamant, refusing to listen.
"Why should I trust you again? So you can push me into the dark again?" He growled.
"Just listen to my side of the story, then you can say whatever you want!" Dad persisted, pleading with the boy to hear him out just once.
Surprisingly, the boy agreed, and for a moment, we thought things might take a turn for the better. However, our hopes were shattered when a gunshot echoed through the air.
We rushed towards the door, only to find it locked from the outside. Panic set in, and Brian had to forcefully break the lock to free us. As we stepped outside, the world seemed to crumble beneath my feet. Dad lay on the ground, his shoulder bleeding profusely.
I stumbled towards him, tears streaming down my face, as he reached out his hand towards me.
He was alive, but barely clinging to life. I held his hand tightly, sobbing uncontrollably, while Brian called for an ambulance. As we rushed him to the hospital, Dad gripped my hand and motioned for me to come closer.
I leaned in, placing my ear near his mouth, desperate to hear his final words.
"Please, don't involve the police... Whatever happened, it wasn't Liam's fault," he whispered, struggling to catch his breath. Confusion and sorrow overwhelmed me as I cried out, "I don't understand!" Dad pulled me closer, his grip weakening. "He's your brother... he always protected you. Now, it's your turn to protect him," he uttered, his voice fading away with his last breath. And just like that, his hand slipped from mine, leaving me heartbroken and filled with a newfound sense of responsibility.
"Dad! Dad!! No…." I cried out, and the last thing I remember was fainting.
The memory of that moment still haunts me. Losing my father was a devastating blow, and I knew deep down that moving on would be an uphill battle. However, I was determined to honor his memory by fulfilling his final wish.
As the sheriff arrived to investigate the crime scene, he approached us to gather our statements. His voice was calm, yet filled with a sense of urgency. "Can anyone please explain what exactly happened?" he inquired.
Without hesitation, I stepped forward, my heart heavy with the weight of the lie I was about to tell. "We were just entering our home when a thief suddenly appeared and attempted to snatch my phone from my grasp. In an act of bravery, my father tried to protect me, but the thief shot him and fled." The words left a bitter taste in my mouth, but I knew I had no other choice.
Brian and Mom stood beside me, their eyes filled with shock and tears. Their silence spoke volumes, silently questioning my actions. "Why did you lie? How could you defend the person responsible for your Dad's death?" their eyes seemed to scream.
And truthfully, I found myself asking the same questions. Doubt and guilt gnawed at my conscience, but I had to stay strong for the sake of my family.
"Did you get a good look at the thief's face?" the sheriff inquired, his voice filled with determination.
"No," I replied, wiping away my tears. "He was wearing a mask, like most robbers do."
With a dismissive wave of his hand, the sheriff signaled that our conversation was over. We were free to leave, but the weight of the situation still hung heavy in the air.
As we drove away, I caught a glimpse of Brian's eyes in the rearview mirror. They pierced through me, filled with a mix of confusion and accusation. Mom, on the other hand, stared out the window, her tears flowing endlessly.
In our family, there was always a rule - if we had disagreements, we would discuss them at home, never in public, and calmly.
But that night, that rule shattered into a million pieces. As we entered our home, a storm of questions and emotions engulfed us.
Brian's anger erupted, and for the first time, he yelled at me. Meanwhile, Mom tried to reach out to me with gentle words, but even her efforts seemed futile now.
The pain and confusion had taken hold, and it seemed like there was no escape.
It felt as though I had entered a state of lifelessness, lying on the couch, tears streaming down my face, unable to speak as if my mouth had been sealed shut, and my tongue weighed a ton.
In that moment, I realized I had nothing to offer - no answers to their inquiries or even to my own.
After that day, I didn't only lost my father, but I also lost my sense of home. It was merely a structure made of bricks, housing three strangers within its walls.
Our mealtimes together ceased to exist. Whenever I sat at the table, Brian would swiftly retreat to his own room with his plate.
Did it hurt? Oh, absolutely! The pain was excruciating. However, nothing remains constant forever, just like our house. Once filled with laughter reverberating through its walls, now it stood in silence.
Within that silence, though, resided a cacophony of unanswered questions, pain, and sorrow. It was the sound of shattered hearts.
I am Zinnia James Paragon, and this is how our story began.