Star Rider

Alcon's Journal #4 -- The Reckoning

DSF@723dc768e63e2d252e1e7add83353e49

After learning about my father's true identity, I became even more cautious and stopped participating in any school clubs. I also rarely left the house on weekends. But I began to notice a change in the atmosphere around our home. First, anti-war slogans were sprayed on the fence, which may or may not have been directed at our family. Then people carrying anti-war banners started to appear. After some time, my mother told me that the council had blocked the budget for using the National Defense Fund to protect the families of soldiers. From now on, there would be no more undercover police guards around our home, and we would have to rely on ourselves.

My mother became increasingly anxious and often stayed up all night, worrying. During the day, she could only sleep on the couch. My father comforted her, saying that he was looking for a new place to live, and once we moved, no one would be able to find us. They discussed the surrounding areas of several possible new addresses while preparing to move and pack.

Outside the door, people occasionally gathered holding banners, and the number of people appeared to be increasing every day. Some people even used loudspeakers to give speeches, and the neighbors were annoyed ,but there is nothing they can do about them.

One morning, I was awakened by my mother's screams of terror. I rushed downstairs to find the front door wide open. My mother was sitting on the ground with her back against me, with my father in her arms. When I ran to her, I saw that his neck seemed to be injured. With each heartbeat, blood spurted from the wound. My mother tried to stop the bleeding but the wound was too big. I immediately helped to press on my father's wound to stop the bleeding. My father's head rested in my mother's arms, his expression a little stiff, but I saw him trying to force a smile. I recognized that smile. Every time my mother had a problem or felt anxious, I could see my father make that expression and comfort her, saying "It's okay." Then he would begin to help my mother solve the problem. He tried to raise his hand to touch my mother's face, but halfway through, it fell back down. I saw his fingertips move across the ground, trying to make the "okay" gesture. I understood that he was trying to say, "It's okay." Then his eyes closed.

My mother was crying and yelling, "Can someone help me call 911?" It was then that I realized I should ask for help, but my hand was still pressing against my father's wound. At that moment, someone outside yelled, "I've already called 911!" I looked up and saw that there were still some people gathering at the door, but most of them had already started to disperse. In the distance, a few people ran so fast that one of them fell down and struggled to get up and continue running. I suddenly became furious and was about to stand up to get the gun, but when I let go of my hand, my father's blood spurted out again. I had to immediately squat down and continue pressing on the wound. Nevertheless, I could still feel my father's blood flowing out from between my fingers with each heartbeat, and the flow of blood was getting weaker and weaker...

I wished so much that time could have stopped then, so my father's blood would not continue to flow. After what seemed like a few minutes that lasted for centuries, the ambulance arrived. The doctors and nurses took over and pressed on my father's wound, then took him to the ambulance. My mother and I let go of our hands, and I realized that my hand had lost feeling. Standing in the yard, my mother was standing there with tears streaming down her face. I hugged her, but after a while, she suddenly broke free from my embrace and ran to the fence, shouting at the dispersed crowd on the road, "Why?! Why?!!!" The dispersed people looked at her, but continued to leave without any expression. I ran over and grabbed my mother's shoulder, but she squatted down and buried her face in her knees, tears streaming down her face but no sound coming out...

It wasn't until Mr.Bryan put his hand on my shoulder that I reacted from shock and fear. Mrs. Bryan hugged my mother, whose shoulders were still shaking. I turned around and went into the house to get the gun. Mr.Bryan held my hand and said, "Alcon, wait a minute..." He took the gun from my hand, took out the magazine and put it in his pocket, checked the chamber, and handed me an empty gun. "Let's go to the hospital together."