My dead father is alive.

  The night was full of nothing but absolute darkness. No street lights were on, no living soul was about. All I could hear was the wind blowing past my freezing cold ears. I could see nothing, not a glimpse of light. The stillness was frightening. There I sat in an empty parking lot, awaiting my death. I knew it would happen soon, just not like this. I’d always had dreams of this, how my life would end in a slow, painful death. I would freeze to my death, not having a bit of help from anyone around. It would all come to an end, right in front of my eyes. It would all end the day I turned twelve.

  Death was something no one every wanted to face before their eyes. It would be a natural thing, dying of old age and health conditions. Growing old, getting to that point when your body just couldn’t fight anymore. Everyone wanted that. Not to die from the cold, from starvation, being homeless, at such a young age. My life was beginning to flash before my eyes. Old memories of my childhood, having a home and a family, especially my parents. My parents, oh how I miss them. They split up when I was six, leaving my mom alone with three children, building on too much stress than she could handle. It ended two years ago, she couldn’t handle it anymore.

  I was in my tiny room, doing my math homework that had been due the day before. Toys were strewn across the room everywhere, clothes shoved under the bed. There I sat on my bed, little me doing math. It had been no problem for me, I had the highest grade point average in the class. I flew through numbers one through seven, just starting number eight when there was a gun shot. A gun shot sounding that came directly from across the hall, where my mother’s room was. The thought flushed through my mind, I knew what had happened. It wasn’t a gunshot from an outside shooting; the sound actually did come from my mother’s bedroom across the hall. I was eight, but I still knew what had happened.

  I heard a scream coming from the living room, a scream that said “JORDYN!”

  My sister.

  Anna, my five year old sister. She knew the gunshot was nearby, she knew that mom was gone. That our mother committed suicide, from too much stress. That she was gone, forever. Clever little girl.

  I jumped up quickly from my spot on the hardwood floor, feeling the numbness in my foot from sitting on it too long. Tears had already started flowing from my eyes, hitting the floor in tiny spatters. My face was a bright red, as it had always been when I cried. I swiftly ran out of the room, going to cradle my two sisters who had heard the horrible sound too. The sound that had shattered my heart into pieces, pieces that would never mend back together as one.

  As I entered the yellow living room, I automatically noticed Anna, cradling two year old Paige. Tears covered the floor in their spot, almost forming a miniature puddle. Anna looked up at me, her face flushed and red, like mine.

  “Stay here.”

  I had to see my mother, alive or dead. To see her before I could never again, in her death scene. Blood probably everywhere, a gun laying on the bed or floor, her motionless body gruesome. I entered her room, seeing the horrible sight.

  That was the last thing I remember. The last thing that flashed before my eyes as I began my last few minutes of life. Anna and Paige had died a month after my mother’s death, by the way. I couldn’t provide for them, and also for myself. They starved to death. I had produced the goods, for a few weeks. But by the end of the month I couldn’t, and they died. Before my eyes.

  My body went into shut down mode; my heart beat slowing down, and my vision getting blurry. But then I saw it. A woman walking toward me, already seeing my state of body. She looked horrified, while I sat cradled up in a ball, my eyes dreary and almost couldn’t open no matter how much I fought to keep them open. She began sprinting towards me, holding her arms out with a blanket in one and a single biscuit in the other. She looked quite familiar; I had seen her walking around a few times during the day time. She had just reached me when I knew these were my last 30 seconds.

   When the woman had reached my almost completely still body, she said something that sounded like she was introducing herself, but the only words I caught were “Here, eat this!” followed by her holding her hand out with the single biscuit. I took it with my hand that I could still feel, inch by inch bringing it back towards me. The biscuit was fresh, still warm and soft. I put it in my mouth, mesmerized by the warmness and deliciousness of it. It was the best thing I’ve ate in 2 years.

  “My name is Susan Laker. You don’t know me, but I know you. Please come with me. We have no time to waste.”

  Before I could hesitate, I had a sudden feeling that if I didn’t go with her, I’d regret it. Before I knew it, her hand was held out for mine, to help me up from my frozen position. I didn’t really care at this point who she was even though she claimed to know me. I just knew that if I said no, I would be dead.

  She began leading me to the Jeep that was parked up right by the curb, still on and still using gas. I’ve never seen a car as nice as this, so this was strange for me. She guided her arm out and opened up the front door, leading me into the car. “Please don’t think I’m doing any wrong here. I’ll explain this whole thing to you on the way home,” she explained as I inched into her car. When I was finally inside, all on the seat, seatbelt buckled, she started walking to her side. Within 10 seconds she was already on her side, getting into the car herself. When she got into the car, she buckled her seatbelt and put the car into driving position, moving the shifter from park to drive.

  “How do you feel?” she began.

  “Alright..” I replied very shyly and quietly.

  “This must be a new for you,” she said smiling and looking over at me to see my reaction.

  “Yeah..”

“Well I’m a researcher from Grady Memorial Hospital. As I said, my name is Susan Laker. Have you ever known your father?”

“Yes, but not in 6 years. He left my mother when I was 6 years old, leaving us with a 1 year old. But later my mother got pregnant again and had another child 4 years later.