pain in form

Pain in Form

Lives can be ripped apart by one person, by one creature. That’s what happened to me, Taylor Lawson: my children killed in front of me, my husband forced to kill himself or me, my mother and father slashed by heartless bloody hands. You can trust no one in this world for they all will deceive you, they will all hurt you. Sometimes I think about that night, and I want to die when I do. Remembering the bloody faces of the ones I love, their eyes glazed with the presence of death, their lifeless limbs that hung down by me when I tried to hug them. Nothing can amount to the pain I felt when my soul, my family, was ripped from me, not even the torture I suffered from my family’s murders.

That day was filled with the essence of joy. With one look at the sky you felt as if the world was not actually a horrible place to live in, but rather the paradise that only exists in the dreams of our minds. My children were skipping with each other in the backyard, my husband, was video taping them, my mother, and father, were laughing around lemonade with the little umbrellas in their cups. I have replayed that scene over and over in my head trying to find some logical reason why something so horrible could happen to us; my only answer is that the world is tainted by those call themselves human. To error is human, to hate is human, to destroy is human, to love is human.

I didn't think about how special that my family was, about how easily we could be wiped away from the earth like smears on the tables of man. Looking back and seeing my daughter’s face all smiles, with a row of little pearly teeth, and her warm deep blue eyes, which she got from her father, looking up at me and asking me to play with her, then having a flash of her when she was just lying on the floor like a ragged doll, no life in her tiny little, fragile body is not just pain in my heart but in my very existence. I am her mother supposed to protect her with my life and yet she is the one dead not I. She did not even know what was happening.

When night fell on us so did all the hate in one human body, we didn't even know he was in the house until I heard my little son scream and stop in the middle of that horrified, desperate scream. My father ran into the hallway first, he never walked out of it, instead a man with the gleam of pure hatred came out and as soon as those eyes laid their rest on me I knew that if I didn't die I would never see another safe, happy day in my life. He strode with the calm serenity of a man who had done this a million times, watching him walk ever so slowly toward my frozen family and I was like watching a man whose entire concept was pure pain, it was part of him, it was him. When he reached the den doorway my husband ran toward him, he was hit over the head with a .45 before he even thought the man had a gun. That hit never even faltered the man he just walked on with the brisk assurance that nothing could stop him, and I was sure nothing really could.

When I glanced at my mother I could see the fear in her eyes, hear it in her breathing. One bullet was all it took to take the person that I held most dearly to die. He turned back toward me and just smirked, I tried to run I wanted to get my only last living child away from this man, but stood frozen under that penetrating gaze, under those gray eyes that seem to resemble the sky on a day that looked like it was going to rain but never did, days where any spirit could be dampened to just look up. He just stalked closer never saying a word, looking from time to time at my daughter, when he was about 5 feet from me I broke that ever tantalizing gaze, turned and barley moved one step when I felt the gun barrel hit the back of my head, as dark unconsciousness blanketed me, like when I blanketed my children when they were cold, my last thought was pure horror.

I opened my eyes back in that torturous place that I would never again call my home again. The mutilated bodies of my family lay around me; the smell of their blood filled the air. It truly sunk in then that I was going to die; my daughter was bound, as was I. My husband was sitting in front of me holding the .45, crying desperately, the man stood behind him with a shotgun to his head. The first words he spoke to me were like hearing a snake slither through dead leaves. “Kill yourself or her” words struck my heart so deeply that I might as well have died right then. I can still see the pain in his eyes, the regretting, and the pure hopelessness. Fingers twitching on the trigger, he looked into my wavering eyes and said “I will always love you”. I couldn't watch the rest, I heard the fire of the gun, then the thump of his life less body hitting the ground, and desperation ran over me like the blood of my love running over the floor.

My daughter, her sweet blue eyes were looking at her father wondering why daddy was bleeding a lot, and why wasn't he moving. Her helpless eyes bulged out of their tiny little sockets as the breath of life was cut short of her, fear penetrating those beautiful eyes. She fell, lifeless, hopeless but it didn't matter anymore all that was left was me. He never did anything, just looked. After a while that seemed like eternity he simply got up laid a knife beside me and left. It took me what seemed like hours to get that horrible rope off of my limbs.

I never figured out why he just left maybe it was boredom or just seeing my pathetic persona lying there frightened half to death. I can't think of that day anymore, but the images are still in my head, overpowering any other emotion that exists within me. I have changed since that night but I am not sure if it is for the better, I can't seem to stop thinking that the man is going to come around the corner and do the same to me. I don't know if I can keep up this rushing flow of images and emotion that comes with the images. My life is in disarray I can't sort out anything, I don't even know that I want to, I just want the images of that night to stop tormenting me but I don't think that will ever happen. Blue eyes ever staring at me in my dreams, screams cut short out of the night. It’s never-ending inside my head, never stopping, never going to give up. The man may be gone, but he is still left in my mind as real as ever and he wont come out he doesn't want to. I really want to think that nothing can ever harm me again but I know that will be a lie even to myself.