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Personal Narrative: My Autobiography

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As I sit here with my fingers on the keyboard, I am nervous about writing this autobiography. This week I have mentally had to prepare myself up to complete this assignment. People that know me intimately know my story, but it is a bit more challenging to share intimate details of your life with a complete stranger. As I gave it more thought, I realized that is the purpose of the assignment. We will face students that will be just as afraid to reveal the details of their lives. As professionals we must use our own life experiences to guide students into turning a negative situation into something affirmative. From the very beginning of my life it appeared that I would be just another statistic. My mother was an eighteen year old high …show more content…

On this particular day my sister had a friend spending the night. My mother and stepfather began drinking and arguing over something trivial. I attempted to mediate, but the screaming continued. I decided to get my two year old brother, sister and her friend and take them to my room until the situation deescalated. I closed the door to my room and entertained the younger kids until we all fell asleep. A while later I heard my mother screaming at my stepfather to come into the house. Repeatedly she said, “Walter come in”. After the third time she asked him to come in I heard three loud noises. The noised sounded like fireworks going off. After the last pop I did not hear my mother say anything else. I jumped out of my bed and ran into the living room. When I made it to the living room I saw my mother lying on the floor and my stepfather standing in the doorway with a gun pointed at her. I screamed when I saw her and kneeled down to check to see if she was breathing. I could not feel a pulse and I started yelling at my stepfather saying, “Why did you have to shoot my mom?” I stood up and began walking toward him and he said “stop right there or I will have to shoot you too!” I stopped as he demanded and just stood there looking at him. He finally yelled at me to call the police. When I ran to the phone he left and went to a neighbor’s house. I stayed by my mother’s side until the police and ambulance came. By the time the ambulance arrived, it was too late, my mother had passed. I was only fifteen years old, my sister was seven and my baby brother was two years

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