Part 1
June 26, 1971
It was a strange movie. A man named Willy Wonka owned a magic chocolate factory. A girl got turned into a large blueberry and another got dropped down a chute for golden eggs. Plus, there are were all these small orange men that kept appearing out of nowhere and singing. It was very weird, but I still think I liked it.
"Did you enjoy the movie?" Dad asked.
"Yeah, what were the little orange men singing about? I think they called the girl a brat. I've never heard anyone use that word."
"It's something you'll understand more when you're older."
I hate it when he says things like that to me. I am old! I'm eight years old. Last year, I was only seven. We left the movie theater together and began to walk toward the car where Alfred was parked. I really like Alfred, even though he talked funny.
"So what was your favorite part of the movie?" Dad asked as he looked down at me.
"I think I liked the part where the boy and his grandfather floated to the ceiling and started burping. It was goofy." I said with excitement.
"I liked that part too." Dad said, looking off into the shadows in the alley behind the theater. "I think we can go this way. We can get there quicker."
Mom looked nervous.
"I don't know, Thomas. It's really dark down there." Mom said cautiously.
I thought Mom was right. That alley looked really dark and scary.
"Come on, Martha. It will take just a like bit and we'll be through." Dad insisted.
Dad grabbed my hand and put his arm around Mom's waist and began to guide us through the dark alley. Although I would never tell Dad, I was really scared by the alley. But Dad thought I was big enough to handle it and I could never disappoint him.
Just when I thought we were going to get through with nothing bad happening, a man stepped in front of us. He was scary looking. He had long hair that covered his shoulders and big, black eyes that seemed to have the life sucked out of them. He was really skinny and looked like he was just skin and bones, something that Mom called me all the time. Now, I could tell her that he was skin and bones, not me.
"Money and jewelry! Now!" he yelled with a voice that didn't seem to fit his weak frame.
I looked down and noticed the large gun he had in his hand. I had never seen a gun in real life before. Dad didn't like them and didn't keep them around. It looked much scarier than I thought it would have.
Dad slowly reached into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. He slowly handed it to the crook, staring at him.
"Alright, you have it. Now, let us go." Dad said calmly.
But, the man's eyes weren't looking at Dad anymore. They were staring at the large necklace Dad had given Mom for her birthday just a couple months ago. The man jerked the gun up and pointed it at Mom.
"Take off the pearls, lady!" he screamed.
Dad stepped in front of Mom, shielding her from the gun.
"Put the gun down! We'll give you the necklace!" Dad yelled. He didn't seem as calm as he had before.
Suddenly, the man seemed to lose his cool. He went to step towards Mom, trying to get to the necklace. Dad stepped into his way and, before I knew what happened, a loud CRACK filled the air.
Instantly, Dad fell to the ground, clutching his chest. His hands began to turn red almost instantly. Mom bent over to try and help him.
"THOMAS!" she screamed in a panic.
Then, another large CRACK sounded out and Mom collapsed on top of Dad. The man reached down and pulled the necklace off of Mom and turned to me.
"Sorry kid."
And then he ran away.
I bent down next to Dad. The front of his shirt and jacket were covered in blood and he was breathing funny.
"Are you ok, Dad?" I asked, beginning to cry. I hated seeing Dad hurt.
"Ev-v-eryth-ing wil-l-l be o-k-k, Bruccce." Dad said. His breathing was get worse and he was starting to cough a lot.
"Dad? I can-n get-t help!" I yelled in fear.
"It's o-ok, Bruce. Don't be afraid..."
With those words, Dad's head slipped to the side. He coughed one more time and then stopped moving at all.
"DAD!" I screamed, sobbing.
I pulled his head back to me. His eyes were empty, just like the man who shot him. I stared at nothing and didn't move or breath. I quickly looked over at Mom and saw the same thing. Staring at nothing.
With police sirens screaming in the background and the loud noises of Gotham City ringing in the background, I laid down on the chest of my father for the last time and cried.
"Dad..."