"Broken Home"

It was the day after the time of my life that everything would come crashing down. I had gone to a birthday party the day before, June 30, 2010. It had been a sleepover. All of us went to go see Twilight Eclipse. It was so fun and the day after would be the last day of school and another sleepover. A double sleepover premiere birthday party. We awoke from our fun it was Friday morning now and the fun and festivities had come to an end. I packed my things and softly smiled at the remembrance of last night. I bid my friends a goodbye and walked out the door. I was still in my pajamas, excused I stumbled down the block the next house would be mine. I walked in through my favorite southern pine kind of green door. It was on a white house with matching green shudders. My feet brushed against the white carpet and mahogany wood. I said hello to my dad and took one unknowing last happy thought in that house. I ran to my dad's shower. I turned the nob and fresh cold water shivered my hand. I closed the door and waited for it to warm up. There was a strong knocking at the door, I thought nothing of it. I began to undress until I heard the panic in my daddy's voice. I heard him call to not get in the shower. There was no time to get dressed I quickly seized the pale green freshly washed towel and wrapped it twice around my body. I grabbed my dad's razor and decided if it was what I thought it was I would at least go down with a fight. My dad was saying over and over something about me, his daughter. The floor below my feet started to rumble the walls were shaking the sound of drills began. The bathroom door swung open and a police officer was there with my dad. He told me to pack as much as I could in a suitcase, and we would have ten days to leave our home. My father never even mentioned to me or anyone else we were having troubles. If he did my grandparents could've helped us for a few months. We had the money we just didn't use it, he never even read the bills. My mother couldn't have helped she had moved out two months ago and she could barely walk with her hip. I began to cry and cry, harder than I have ever cried before. There were two officers and a woman. She was from the bank. She kept saying I would be okay and I would have a new house. I had never loathed anyone more than her at that point I was a little girl unable to even manage the words "Why? Why me?" how did she know I would be alright? I would never be alright. I had two suitcases packed we would go to my mom's apartment in Apex. I couldn't think about what just happened, I couldn't fathom what had occurred. All I could do was cry and further deny that I would never see my paints on the wall again. Never again see the place where I had my first bath with a newborn baby sister. I had my first pet, my first friend, the magic of family all in this house. I knew I laugh at things I had once cried over before, but never had I imagined that I would cry at things I once laughed at. When bad things happen to you you have three choices, you can let it define you let it destroy you, or let it strengthen you. Unfortunately I got to experience all three. They say home is where the heart is. Parts of my heart died that day. I will never be able to get over it I only can live with it. As lumps form in my throat and aches in my heart, I slowly begin to cry, writing and telling this for the first time. I had plans for that house. I would never be in the house again. Never go to High School with my best friend I'd known since we moved there in 2002. A house is just a house. I know that as well as anyone else, but home isn't just a home. A home is where you feel safe and secure, where you can be yourself. If you don't have that security and safety you feel incomplete and broken. I have a broken home.