If insecurity were a person I was that person. Life has been a struggle from the word go, I have lived a life that would have broken a lesser being. Pain became my shadow, keeping me wrapped in its cold and lonely embrace since as far back as I can remember. Whether I was fighting an internal struggle, a battle never ending and never won, or unleashing the rage that my passive nature kept bottled inside until it burst forth out of control. I used to wonder why people would stare so intently into my eyes, and why when I would catch a glance from across a room more often than not it would be met with a silent yet knowing nod of recognition. All these years I'm so certain that I was the only one like me, the only one who grew up like I did. I never could have imagined once I finally let go of the pain, and the when the fear of rejection was lifted from me and I finally began to see that the only barrier in my life, the one thing that was continuing to hold me back and keep me from reaching my potential and following my dreams was myself. I spent so many years blaming everyone else. I refused to believe that I was the cause of so much destruction in my own life. Once I realized that I was the one in control, once the realization hit me that I held the keys to unlock the door to my future. Oh what a gift, what a magnificent gift. If only I could have come to this conclusion before my life had spiraled into such chaos. Alas, where would the fun have been in that.

To the real authors of this book, my loves, my babies, my true saviors in life.  

-A, K, yes and you N!

The summer I turned seventeen started out like most other summers. School was over, days were longer, life was going to great for the next few weeks, or so I thought. I got home from school that day expecting everything to be much like it always was, mom in the kitchen getting dinner ready, dad kicked back in his chair watching whatever game happened to be on the television, and my sister lounging somewhere on the phone talking so fast that I often wondered how exactly anyone ever understood her at all. How wrong I was, how could I have taken it all for granted. Why couldn't I have just done something different. Smoke billowed from every window, flashing lights and sirens everywhere, men and women screaming and running in every direction. My eyes darted swiftly through the chaos, where was my mother, my dad, Angela? What was going on? Tears welled up in my eyes when I heard my name from behind me, it was my father, I knew I wasn't going to be alone. I turned to look expecting him to be there as I had clearly heard him. When my eyes adjusted and I wiped away the salty tears that stung my eyes no one was there. Not my father, not someone that may have sounded like him, just no one. I assumed it was my mind playing tricks on me or the wind carrying the sound of the calamity that was unfolding around me.

 All of the sudden a hand grabbed my shoulder, all of my being wanted nothing more than to turn and see my mom or my dad, my sister, all of them, one of them, someone that could tell me what was happening and to reassure me that I wasn't alone. I spun to see a man that I recognized but couldn't place his name. I knew he was a detective with the North Village Police Department though. Fear and excitement overtook me all at once, he would know, he could tell me where my family was, what had happened, and more importantly what was going on. He lead me to a car, opened the door and reassured me that he would explain everything before motioning for me to get in and driving me to the station across town.

 His voice was calm and steady, yet crisp and to the point. Almost rehearsed like he had done it hundreds of times he began to speak, he told me that around two-fifteen today a 911 call came into the station alerting them that smoke was seen coming from a downstairs window. Police, Fire, and EMS were dispatched to 2338 Echo Park rd here in North Village. I had heard the address so many times, my entire life. Hearing it from him only made it sound like it was the first time hearing it, like it was  foreign country. I continued to listen as he spoke with direct and practiced words. 

He lamented that first responders arrived on the scene and entered the residence to find a scene that not even the most seasoned of investigators could have prepared themselves for. The first victim they came to in the home was my father, laying in his chair as if he had been sleeping but for the blood still dripping from the deep gash that stretched from ear to ear almost decapitating him, mother was next almost posed in the dining room. Sitting in a chair at the head of the table, arms crossed in her lap, her head sitting in front of her on a dinner plate staring blankly at her mutilated body. Then as if there may have been a survivor or even a perpetrator still inside the home they heard it, the slow and almost rhythmic tapping coming from the room above the kitchen. Weapons drawn the officers moved slowly and methodically as they cleared the first floor, then crept slowly up the stairs. Smoke still billowing from the single window hadn't shown any sign of fire, pushing on they reached the last room on the second floor, to the only door that had been closed. 

The sound a little louder now still slow and rhythmic raised the hairs on their necks as they slowly turned the knob leading into the room. As it creaked open as if in slow motion the first officers eyes met with a young girl, no more than nineteen or twenty. Bound at the wrists and ankles, with a gag tightly wound around her head stretching her mouth open and making it difficult for her to breath. Peering around the room the blood drained from his face, the tapping they had heard, that low eerie sound was the slow and frightening clinking of some sort of homemade mechanism attached to a rope, the rope ever tightening ran between her legs up behind the chair then stopped where it was tightly tethered to a sort of pin. All of this happening in what seemed like hours was coming to his realization in a matter of seconds. Then as if he had set of a chain reaction by opening the door, before he could even take a single step toward her. A single almost deafening pop reverberated from all around the room. As they collected themselves and steadied their eyes back on the girl they were horrified to realize that her head had been severed from her body, it was now staring up at them from the now silent mechanism that lay at the other side of the room. 

Almost as if it all happened at once a call came over the radio, the fire was now spreading out of control. They had only moments to get out before they were trapped in the ensuing inferno. Turning to the stairs the flames were already tickling the edge of  the handrail. The three of them would have to go out of a window, with every bit of courage and strength they had left the officers sprang for the window at the other side of the room, doing their best not to look at or replay what had just happened a moment ago. They barely made it onto the roof when the flames began to overtake the bedroom. Now that they were on solid ground the lead officer began to relay what they had saw to the detective, trembling in bewilderment the detective relieved the men to go home, get cleaned up and hug their families, but a full report was to be on his desk come morning. 

As he wiped the sweat from his brow detective Stone looked up to see a young woman across the now growing crowd of first responders and emergency personnel. Knowing of the family and remembering that there had been another daughter he made his way to her. Her back was to him as he approached, he rest his hand on her shoulder. He could feel the tense but almost relieved recognition of his presence. She turned to him and in her eyes he could see her innocence, the unknowing of what lay behind the door of her now burning home. He would have to be the one to tell her. he would have to break the news that not only was she now an orphan, but she was now an orphan who had lost her parents and her only other sibling as well. It is part of the job he reminded himself over and over. He sat down across from her and like he had so many times before began to tell her what had happened and what they knew so far. A whole lot of nothing to be completely honest, but so so much at the same time.

I sat back in my chair, head spinning so fast I knew I would vomit at any moment. Detective Stone must have felt it too, before I knew it the small trash bin had made it's way across the room next to me. Then with pained and remorseful eyes without saying a word, he rose from his seat and left the room. I sat silently for what seemed like hours, tears streamed down my face, my nose running uncontrollably as I kept telling myself over and over again that it wasn't real. Any moment my mom and dad would come through the door and say that it had all been a misunderstanding, or a bad dream and we would all go home. How I wish that was true, how I wish that I could hold them all one more time. Just as I began to feel like I would spend the rest of the night in this room the door opened. In walked a woman, a kind yet stern look on her face looked blankly at me then back into the hallway. She motioned for someone to come into the room then stepped aside, as scared, upset, and sad as I had felt I couldn't have been more relieved or happy in that moment to see my aunt Laura. My mothers only sibling, and the only family that I even had left now. My father was an only child, and my grandparents had all passed before I was born. My aunt wrapped her long bony arms around me, as a kid I hated those hugs, now it was the most comforting hug I had ever felt. 

TBC……….