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Narrative essay

The pounding of the door awakened me in the dead of the night. Distinctive voices were calling through the door. I lay in my bed quietly as I heard the footsteps of my mother in the hallway. Lights went a blazing, lighting her way, some spilling into our room. Then I heard a door open and more feet shuffling into our quiet home. “Police,” said an unknown voice, so loud and so clear. “Put your hands up in the air and get down on the floor. ” My mother moved to obey the order. More feet were moving about. Voices were talking above voices. Someone asked my mother a question.

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As I listened, I heard the fear in her response and the frustrations in the other. Doors were opened, and then shut closed. Footsteps trekked throughout the house, as if they were looking for something or someone. I heard voices talking, but I didn’t understand what was being said, all I knew was that I was scared and curious. My curiosity got the better of me and I moved to get up. My older sister, Chile, grabbed my hand. “Don’t move,” she whispered. I asked her, what was going on. She responded, “I don’t know. Go back to sleep. ” I lay back onto our bed, but I didn’t sleep.

Instead, I thought about my mom. What must she be going through? Who were these people? Minutes seemed to pass by with nothing happening in the other room, but talking amongst them. I couldn’t Just lay here and not do anything, I thought to myself. I have to do something. They might hurt her. With wild imaginations churning into my mind, I decided I needed to face them and my imaginations. I untangled my hand from my sister and slowly got up. With the little light spilled underneath our door, I turned my head towards my sister. Her eyes were opened and tears streamed down. “I’m scare,” she whispered.

I plied, I was too, but I wanted to know what was going on. “I’ll go with you,” she said, moving quietly about the bed into the next one where my two oldest sisters were sleeping. She shook them, but they were awake and listening to the noises in the other room. They both got up and sat on the bed. “What’s going on? ” I asked the Jessica. Being the oldest, she had a better understanding of the situation. “They’re looking for Jeff and Johnny,” she said, referring to my two oldest brothers. “Why? ” Chile asked. “They did something stupid,” she responded. “What did they do this time? ” my other sister, Amber, asked.

I don’t know,” Jessica said, “but let’s go back to sleep. ” “What about mom? ” Chile asked. “They won’t hurt her,” Amber answered. “They Just want Jeff and Johnny. ” Deciding that was the end, Jessica and Amber laid back down onto their bed. Chile and I looked at each other. She shrugged her shoulders, and then went back to bed. Being indecisive, I sat on the bed. What seemed like hours, only took seconds, as I got up. Three heads turned my way. “l need to use the bathroom,” I told them. “Me too,” Chile said. Jessica and Amber reluctantly got up. We’ll go together, they said. They were as curious as I was.

And not one of us needed the bathroom. With a racing heart, I hallway and saw figures walking around. They were all dressed in black; black beanies, black shirts, black pants, black shoes. Most wore vests with SWAT written across in bold letters. Some wore their uniforms and others wore street clothes. Opening the door bigger, I bravely stepped out into the light, with my sisters taking the rear. Hearing our entrance, three figures with SWAT on their vests, drew their gun. “Police,” the one in the middle yelled. “Put your hands up in the air and get down on the floor. ” Those same words they had echoed to my mom.

Getting down on the floor, with my hands on my head, I heard footsteps going into our room. Watching through the corner of my right eye, I saw four legs go inside. Lights were being turned on, beds were overturned, and windows were opened. Someone raised their right leg to kick the closet door opened, while another one, with his gun drawn, looked inside. “Clear,” they shouted from the room. Upon leaving our destroyed room, they told us to get up and walk into the living room in a single formed line. Sitting down and across from my mom, I looked about our home. There were about fifteen to went people inside and outside.

I watched them talking amongst themselves. Some were in the kitchen, discussing who knew what, and others were outside. But they were all alert, ready for anything and everything. One of the officers walked up to us. He asked my mom where my dad is. “Sleeping,” she replied. “Point to the room,” he said. My mom pointed to the last room on the right. My mom then told Jessica to tell him there were kids sleeping in the room. “My mom said there are kids sleeping in the room,” she translated. He nodded then left. Seconds later, my dad came out of the room with his hand behind his back. He was awake,” the officer said to another.

Seating my dad next to my mom, he went outside, while another talked to my dad. Tuning them out, I watched my surrounding again. A couple of officers opened kitchen drawers and cabinets to see what’s inside. Someone went into the bathroom to check it out again. Another looked in the garage. Most of the ones outside looked about the yard and kept the neighbors at bay, while some pretended to be busy. I looked at the clock. In a bright red color, it changed from three twenty-five to three twenty-six and my brothers walked through the front door with their hands behind heir back Just as a cry wailed into the night.

My strong and prideful mother wept in despair. My father, stoic and unbending, sat defeated. My sisters turned their head away in shame. I looked at my brothers and felt disappointment in them. They slipped into their room with the officers behind them. Minutes later, they came back out. My mom got up and started to ask my brothers what had happened, where had they been, and who had they been with, but was deterred when the officer blocked her. As my brothers left, my mother collapsed onto the floor and cried. We tried to comfort her as best however we knew we couldn’t.

Before the last of the officers left, one came up to us to tell us what had happened. We all sat in shock as we listened to what was being explained. My oldest brother was being charged with voluntary manslaughter and my other brother to be taken in as witness. Done with delivering his news, he left, quietly closing the door. Locking up the house, my sisters and I surround our parents and cried. We cried for loss of innocence, for our now broken home, and for our brothers. We knew we could never get back those days of happiness. We could only move on from this point and learn that with every action

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