Supernova
On this hot day in February, I am almost completely sure that I am the only sixteen year old to be sitting in their living room and listening to the radio. The president told the country that we should tune in on the radio at nine o’clock tonight. “MOM…..DAD….IT’S TIME!” I yell as loud as I can. I think that mother and Father are keeping stuff from me. Sometimes in the middle of the night I wake up to them arguing about how mother thinks that Father should stop going to see his “friends” as mother puts it, every single time that they fight. I know what they fight about but they try and keep it secret. My parents aren’t what people would call as loving people-definitely not towards me. They don’t beat me or anything like that. …show more content…
There are people running around shouting, papers flying everywhere, and phones are ringing. I have to run through everybody to get to where they are holding my Father. As I reach the room where they are holding my Father, I see that he is sitting in a chair with a needle in his arm. I realize what they’re about to do to him. I can’t let this happen. He always did what he could to help me and my mother even though he knew her background. I have to get to him.
“WAIT…..YOU CAN’T DO THIS” I pant. “He didn’t do it. I did. You can’t kill him.” I look at my Father to warn him to stay quiet. He does. This moment brings me to tears. I don’t start crying because I know I’m about to die. I cry because Father is letting me take the blame. I cry because he is letting me get killed.
“Why did you do it?” Asks the official. “Why would you exploit all of our countries secrets to other countries?”
“I did it because our country is selfish. I did it because I think that other people besides Americans should be able to live.” I explain. “ Why does America think that we are a superior race? Do Americans think that we have no faults? Well if they do, they have been mistaken. Everyone thinks that we are perfect. Even other countries think we’re perfect. Well they were sadly misinformed.” I feel a sense of relief as I say all of this. I can tell that the officials agree with me, but it’s their job. They have to think Americans are …show more content…
The official puts the needle in my arm.
“Fathers are supposed to care for their children, not hate them. Did you try and do any of this while I saved you?” I ask Father. I can tell he knows what I’m talking about. I can tell this really hit a nerve. He breaks down in tears.“I’m sorry. I know I’m not the best Father. I tried to care for you but got stuck doing work. I tried, I tried, I tried….. You don’t understand how hard it is to be a parent…..know you will never know how hard it is to take care of children.” He tries to explain.
As he finishes, I hear the plunger of the syringe as it goes down. As the life leaves me, everything gets blurry.
“I’m sorry…...I’m sorry.” Father repeats. He keeps repeating it. Everytime he repeats it, I believe it less and less. I know he’s not sorry. This is the first time in my short life that I have wanted to die. That I’ve wanted to end it all. Now I really know that no one cares.
“I lov…..” That all I hear Father say as I slowly lose the grip of
On this hot day in February, I am almost completely sure that I am the only sixteen year old to be sitting in their living room and listening to the radio. The president told the country that we should tune in on the radio at nine o’clock tonight. “MOM…..DAD….IT’S TIME!” I yell as loud as I can. I think that mother and Father are keeping stuff from me. Sometimes in the middle of the night I wake up to them arguing about how mother thinks that Father should stop going to see his “friends” as mother puts it, every single time that they fight. I know what they fight about but they try and keep it secret. My parents aren’t what people would call as loving people-definitely not towards me. They don’t beat me or anything like that. …show more content…
There are people running around shouting, papers flying everywhere, and phones are ringing. I have to run through everybody to get to where they are holding my Father. As I reach the room where they are holding my Father, I see that he is sitting in a chair with a needle in his arm. I realize what they’re about to do to him. I can’t let this happen. He always did what he could to help me and my mother even though he knew her background. I have to get to him.
“WAIT…..YOU CAN’T DO THIS” I pant. “He didn’t do it. I did. You can’t kill him.” I look at my Father to warn him to stay quiet. He does. This moment brings me to tears. I don’t start crying because I know I’m about to die. I cry because Father is letting me take the blame. I cry because he is letting me get killed.
“Why did you do it?” Asks the official. “Why would you exploit all of our countries secrets to other countries?”
“I did it because our country is selfish. I did it because I think that other people besides Americans should be able to live.” I explain. “ Why does America think that we are a superior race? Do Americans think that we have no faults? Well if they do, they have been mistaken. Everyone thinks that we are perfect. Even other countries think we’re perfect. Well they were sadly misinformed.” I feel a sense of relief as I say all of this. I can tell that the officials agree with me, but it’s their job. They have to think Americans are …show more content…
The official puts the needle in my arm.
“Fathers are supposed to care for their children, not hate them. Did you try and do any of this while I saved you?” I ask Father. I can tell he knows what I’m talking about. I can tell this really hit a nerve. He breaks down in tears.“I’m sorry. I know I’m not the best Father. I tried to care for you but got stuck doing work. I tried, I tried, I tried….. You don’t understand how hard it is to be a parent…..know you will never know how hard it is to take care of children.” He tries to explain.
As he finishes, I hear the plunger of the syringe as it goes down. As the life leaves me, everything gets blurry.
“I’m sorry…...I’m sorry.” Father repeats. He keeps repeating it. Everytime he repeats it, I believe it less and less. I know he’s not sorry. This is the first time in my short life that I have wanted to die. That I’ve wanted to end it all. Now I really know that no one cares.
“I lov…..” That all I hear Father say as I slowly lose the grip of