The Past

Well, I guess no matter what walk of life they're from, any teenager would tell you they've had a rough life. For some that might just be true, but no one had been through as much crap as those in this story. Everyone of them has a horrible past they'd rather not speak about. I'm one of those teens with a hard past... My name is Emma Langford, and I've just turned nineteen.

My story is simple to say the least... I was born into a nice family and was taken care of. I never had any type of fight with my mother, father or elder brothers, there were three of them. I was safe there, until my eldest brother's birthday... He'd gone out with some friends for his seventeenth, I had just turned four. They'd gotten a little drunk and decided that they needed to come home. Well, winter in Montana is not a good time to drive, especially not when the driver was drunk out of his mind. That night is something I'll never forget. I was sitting up in my room looking out the window, saying my prayer when I saw the police car pull up into our drive-way. As I walked downstairs in my blue nightgown, I heard my mother sobbing and clinging to my father for support. The car had swerved off the slick road and hit passenger side into a tree. The car had wrapped around it in a way that almost made it look like a pretzel.

"If it helps any, it was most likely that he felt nothing..." The policeman's deep voice still rings in my head. "It seems that they were coming around the bend too fast and they couldn't control it. I'm sorry for your loss." He'd said and walked away. I ran around the corner, to my mother's side pulling on the hem of her nightgown, tears streaming down my face. My father closed the door with out a word and picked me up, pulling me into a strong hug. When I pulled back and looked into his face, I'll never forget the hurt and pain that sat beneath the hard exterior of my father's flawless mask. My mother still sobbed behind us as my father carried me back up to my bed. That was the last time I ever heard my mother cry.

For the next few months I remember my family life becoming more and more difficult. My two other brothers, the twins, were cut off from everyone, stayed in their rooms for most of the days. My father had started drinking and my mother lost her job. I remember the move, we had to leave Montana, since we could no longer afford to live there. We moved to many places after that, but by my fifth birthday we finally settled in Detroit. My father had become a violent drunk and took up hitting my brothers and mother. He never did lay a hand on me though and I always wondered why that was. Jeremy and Ross finlay left home, they were only fifteen but said they could handle themselves, so they ran away. I never knew I could cry more then I did when Brandon died, but I did. That was the first time my father ever hit me. He blamed me for everything, even for making them leave, he said it was my incessant whining that drove them away. Soon after he got worse and worse. After that I couldn't look at my parents, they'd always drink and fight, my mother got into drugs soon after that.

Her parents never took the young girl to church
Never spoke of His name
Never read her His word
Two non-believers walking lost in this world
Took their baby with them
What a sad little girl

Her daddy drank all day and mommy did drugs
Never wanted to play
Or give kisses and hugs
She'd watch the TV and sit there on the couch
While her mom fell asleep
And her daddy went out

And the drinking and the fighting
just got worse every night
Behind their couch she'd be hiding
Oh what a sad little life

Soon enough the fighting got so bad I'd completely avoid my parents, when they'd get home from work I'd run into my room and get lost in a book. I'd never walk out, not until everything was quiet and I could hear my father's snoring. One day in the middle of the summer my father got it into his head that my mother was cheating on him. He walked out to his truck, I had been in the kitchen unsuccessfully searching for food, and walked into the living room, as he started back in, so I hid behind the couch. I heard him yelling about how if she was going to leave him, that she wouldn't go alone. Then the gun shots, rang through the room. My mother fell limp over the side of the couch, where I could see the darkness of her eyes. I silenced a sob as another shot rang, then the sound of something heavy hitting the hardwood.

And like it always does, the bad just got worse
With every slap and every curse
Until her daddy in a drunk rage one night
Used a gun on her mom and then took his life

A few hours later I could hear the sirens, and the men yelling at each other, they kicked open the front door and found my parents. No one noticed I was there, not until they'd drug out my father's body and were beginning to take my mother. I remember the man looking over my mother and him bright blue eyes catching a shaking hand on my mother's sleeve. His face went from pity to shock and horror. He called out to the others and pulled the couch out enough to get to me. He looked at my face, which had long before been dried from tears. My face had hardened and I couldn't even look at him, I could barely understand what he was saying to me, as he pulled me up in his arms and raced out to an ambulance. Police gathered around me to see if I was alright, if I'd been shot, since of course I'd been covered in my own mother's blood. When they saw I was fine they went back to work and let the paramedics do their work. The put tubes in me and checked my blood pressure, and heart rate. They ran all their tests and finally decided to take me to the hospital for treatment of what they called, Post-traumatic Stress Disorder. I was taken to a therapist for a few days after that in that damn hospital. They said I was too calm and anything but normal or saying I was still in shock from the whole ordeal, and maybe I'd snap out of it. I didn't I sat there for three days not saying a word, never playing with toys, I did nothing. I was five years old and alone in the world.

The fourth day of my sessions with the therapist they finally got me to speak. I asked, "Where is Jeremy and Ross, I wanna go home." They all just looked at me. The therapist and the nurses were pleased that I'd said something but were too afraid to tell me I might never see my brother's again. For the first time since the incident I cried, the tears streamed down my face, before I could stop them. My nurse picked me up and decided that was it for the day. When I got back to my room, a woman was sitting in my chair by the window. As the nurse and I walked in she stood up. Her slender figure stood high and her blond hair shone in the sun. A smile was plastered on her face and she knelled down to my eye level.

"Hello, Emma, how are you today?" Her smile never budged it was like she was never going to stop being so happy. The tear stains on my face caught her attention, "Aw, now dear, its going to be alright, okay? I'm here to help you find a new mommy and daddy." She said with a happy face. I said nothing, my face must have changed because she stood up and looked down at me. "Now that's enough crying," I hadn't noticed the hot tears running down my face, until she said something, "we're going on a ride do you think you'd be up for that?" She asked grabbing my hand and pulling to her side. We made our way out of the hospital and to a small black car outside, she put me in the passenger seat and turned to the nurse holding my things. After everything was in the car, she walked to the drivers side and started off. I looked out my window waving to the nurse who had been so kind to me for those days, she did the same, silent tears running down her fair cheeks. The lady in the car with me had lost the smile when she turned to me. "Wipe those tears off your face." She said pushing a tissue roughly at me. "I'm taking you to a foster home... Do you know what that is?" I shook my head and took the tissue across my face. "that's people who are going to take care of your sorry ass till some idiot takes you in.

For the rest of my time in the system I went from foster home to foster home. I remember one imparticular though, the man who was taking care of me. He seemed nice enough and never hit me. Though not many did, they all said I was too pretty to hit, and couldn't understand why someone ever would have. Well he was worse, he molested me one night, the night I finally decided I'd had enough with these people and I ran away. Though I didn't get too far, before the police caught me. I was thirteen ten years old and was scared. The police set me in the back seat and took me back to him. The next day I sat out on the front porch watching kids run around, playing and having fun when a black car pulled up in front of the house. Some man got out of the passenger's seat and started up the walk. I stood up and walked into the front door, "Charlie. I man's here!" I called my voice still shaken from the night before. I went back and opened the screen door as the man said, "Hello."

"Hi." I said, lowering my eyes he seemed familiar though I wasn't able to place him. His dark hair, almost the same color as mine, barely fell to his bow, though he slicked it back so that it was out of his face. He wore a nice button down shirt and jeans. My long hair fell across my face and ended in the middle of my back, and my green striped blouse and jean shorts, seemed insignificant to his wardrobe.

Charlie came to the door in a dirty muscle shirt and shorts. The greyd old man did anything but make people feel welcome. He walked out the screen door and stood with his arms crossed, "What?" was his grough response to the man's face. The dark green eyes of the man's face never left my bowed head. Charlie noticed that he was staring and snapped in front of his face, "Hey, hey... What do you want here, boy?"

The man finnaly moved his eyes to the greese monkey who was taking care of me. "Sir, my name is Ross Langford, and I'm here to take my sister from you, and bring her home." At the name Ross my head shot up. I couldn't believe that was him, the last time I'd seen my brother he was a long haired rocking teen, now he was a slick handsome twenty year old. I could feel the tears rising in my eyes as my arms flung out and I crushed myself against my brother's side. He smiled and wrapped an arm around me.

"Wait, her brother?" Charlie asked, "I thought you were dead. If you are I need to see some papers..." Ross pulled a thick, paper folded up, out of his back pocket handing it over to Charlie, then lifted me onto his hip. His smile was iffectious, and I smiled to as he kissed my cheek. Charlie scanned, then critiqued ever single line of the papers trying to figure, something with them was wrong.

"I've already talked to the department, and she's my blood, and I'm cetinly well off enough to take care of the both of us." He ensured Charlie, who's frown deepened. "Now, if you would just show me to her room we'll get her things together." Ross's smile was kind, though his voice was final. He'd learned it from our father, before all this went down. Charlie nodded and walked into the house, Ross and I just behind him. Once in my small room Ross set me down and closed the door on Charlie. He found a large duffle bag in my closet and started taking, anything that was nice enough to wear out and stuffing it in the bag. He turned to me and smiled, "Did you need anything else?" The tears I had locked away inside myself for so many years streamed down my cheeks, like waves crashing against the shore. Worry struck Ross's features as he walked over to me and lifted me in a bear hug. "You're going to be safe now, what's wrong?" He asked, his normally, deep calm voice faultered. I shook my head furiously, since I was too chocked by the clenching of my throat. "Do you just want to leave?" He asked quietly. I nodded my head just as fast, making him chuckle. "Alright." He said picking up the bag and throwing it over his other shoulder.

Charlie, didn't seem at all sad as I was placed in the back seat of the car, I stared out the window back at him as Ross placed my stuff in the trunk. They waved to each other, and Charlie waved at me, as he did all my memories of before when he'd touched me rushed back through my mind. I stuck out my tonge at him as we drove off, since the windows were tinted I couldn't know if he'd seen me, but I'd hoped he had. As we turned a corner and were no longer able to see the house, I leaned back in my seat. That was when I noticed Ross wasn't driving, a lady with bright red hair sat in the driver's seat one hand on the wheel and the other in my brother's hand. She saw me staring in the rearview mirror. "Hello, Emma." She said sweetly, her voice was childish, but calming at the same time. A slight smile crossed my face.

"Emma, meet Johanna, my fiance'. " Ross smiled, turning around in his seat, to look at me. "I'm sorry, I didn't come for you sooner." His voice was full of regret. I sat still watching the hurt in my brother's eyes. He smiled and brushed a few, long strands of dark hair away from my brown eyes. "You know I love you right?" He asked, and I nodded.

"I love you too." My voice came out hushed and it sounded far away though I knew it was true.


And some people from the city took the girl far away
To a new mom and a new dad
kisses and hugs everyday
Her first day of Sunday school the teacher walked in
And a small little girl
Stared at a picture of Him

She said I know that man up there on that cross
I don't know His name
But I know He got off
Cause He was there in my old house
and held me close to His side
As I hid there behind our couch
The night that my parents died.

Note I'll place tittles of lyrics here... John Michael Montgomery - The Little Girl