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Personal Narrative-Sacrifice For Murder Or Illness?

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It was done. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing with my own ears. At the age of 7, my mother was murdered in our living room. It was Valentine’s Day of 1993 and my father had planned a romantic dinner out with her. When he found out what had happened, he was an awful mess. He didn’t work, he started drinking again, and he swore to me that he will find the monster that killed my mum. My mum and I used to always watch ‘The Fresh Prince of Belair’ together, and whenever a new episode came out, we’d make popcorn and record it on VHS tape. I kept every single tape, and they’re hiding in my room where my dad won’t find them. He becomes an emotional mess and has attempted to destroy them. My heart broke too when I watched the tapes, until the…show more content…
My friend Jonathan was over, since my dad was at work in a small town called Port Augusta. It was four days after he left, and he was due back two days ago. I was panicking since I couldn’t phone him, and I had no way of finding out where he was. So what are we all told to do in a situation like this? Call the police. I picked up the phone and called the local police station. “Darwin Police station. How may I help you?” The officer on the other side sounded like he really needed a sleep. “Ummm… Hi. My dad is missing and I don’t know where he is!” I was another mess. “Yeah sure thing,” he yawned, “When and where did you see him last?” “At my house before he went to work at Port Augusta, South Australia. This was 4 days ago.” “When was he due to come back home?” I could hear him typing furiously all of the information I was giving him. He took the occasional sip of coffee too. “2 days ago” “What was your dad’s name, mate?” “Clemmons. Jeff…show more content…
He leads me to the car yard, and he unlocked a police car. It was fairly new, but the red light on top of the car was smashed. “Are you going to get in or not?” I went to go sit in the back, but he directed me to sit in the front. We were driving down the road but it was awkwardly silent. The officer could feel that I was feeling extremely anxious, so he turned on the radio. ‘Wannabe’ by the Spice Girls was playing, which I used to dance to with my mum before she died. The police officer starts to mumble the words, and next thing you know, we had the radio as loud as it could go and we were dancing and singing along. It relieved me so much, since I was about to have an anxiety attack. Hit after hit played, and we all sung and danced along. I didn’t even realise we were heading to the Darwin Jail. We exited the car, and I instantly froze in place. The officer leads me inside anyways. We went to the main gate and the officer swiped his ID card. “Why are we here?” He heard me, but he didn’t respond. I could see in his facial expression that he really wanted to tell me what was going on. We walked through the cafeteria and all of the criminals turned their head as we walked
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