PROLOGUE
Name: Alyson Parker, 17 years old
Entry: 1
Date: 16th June 2007
[Mood: …]
[Music: When You're Gone by Avril Lavigne]
Dear Diary,
A turmoil of feelings hit me today. What do I feel, you ask? I feel…exhausted. Sad. Anger. Pain. Love. Like I said, a turmoil of feelings. My mom gave me this diary on my birthday last 1st of December and I never thought of ever writing in it actually. I was never a big fan of writing. But today, my hands wanted to do something useful. Something to take the mind of things.
Today was the longest day of my life. My mother gave me this diary as her last words came to me, “Write, love. Never stop,” and she died. Just like that. She took a last breath and a second later, her lungs stopped. Her heart ceased beating. My mother, named Allison Jane Watson Parker died in my arms at 4.15 pm on 16th June 2007 in her bedroom, murdered by my drunken father. Everything happened too fast. There was nothing I could do. I still couldn’t bring myself to confess the whole truth. Let me tell you (or maybe write in this case) how it happened, maybe taking it off my chest will make me feel better…
I entered my house as usual at 3.15 pm to hear voices rising from the other end of the hall. Tired day at school. Opened door to hear shouts and found parental units are fighting. The average school day from the life of Aly Parker. I helped myself to lunch and took a quick bath. They’re still at it. Fine. “Mom! Dad! I’m going to Keira’s to study. I won’t be home till 6!” I shouted at the door. Answering me was a couple more shouts. Like you guys would care, I thought. It’s been like this for a year already. Mom was sick and tired of Dad’s uncontrolled drinking and late nights visits to the bar. Then, she found out that he had an affair with his secretary at work. I think, it would be seconds for my mother to call her lawyers and draw up a divorce letter. I think she already did.
Anyway back to the event.
So, I slammed the door and walked down the street towards the bus stop to take a bus that will lead me from Stamford Green towards Forest Glen where my best friends; Keira Riley, Elizabeth Smith, Alexandra Gates and Violet Dare lives. Usually I would have driven my car but I was too lazy today.
Anyway, about my friends, here’s a little something something. Violet Dare, a teenager who lives with Lizzie in an apartment she bought from her rich heritage from her late parents. Both of their parents were killed in an aeroplane en route back home from Paris. Lizzie has lived with Vi for almost two years now since her mother died. Keira’s father, Mr William Riley took the custody of the both of them after the incident so that they could escape the orphanage. Alex however was a runaway. She bumped into us at the airport where we just received the news of Violet and Lizzie’s parents’ deaths. She came here from New York where she moved to 2 years before. We knew her since seventh grade but she moved away. She was running away from her father, who started to abuse her after her mother died. She has been living with Keira ever since. Her father didn’t care a bit about his daughters’ best friends; he also cared for us as if we were his own daughters. And we loved him for that.
I was five minutes out of the house when I heard a big BANG!! from the direction of our house. I had no idea how my life changed at that apparent moment. I sprinted like mad towards my house. My front door was open and out staggered my dad, walking like he usually does after every swing of Chardonnay. On his hand was a pistol. “Dad…what, what did you do!?” I yelped at the sight of the gun but he fainted. Afraid of what is to come, I ran towards my mother in her bedroom.
She was on the floor, writhing in agony. Her belly was flowing with blood.
“MOM!! WHAT HAPPENED?!”
I was frozen, rooted to the spot. Imagine if you were I, Diary. The women who had cared for you, nurtured you, brought you up from a baby to an infant to the person you are now was dying, killed by your own father. The right thing to do was to call the ambulance. My mind was screaming at my vital nerves to move my feet and reach out my hand towards the phone. It was only inches away but my eyes were fixed on my mother. I laid down next to her and held her hand.
“Mom, I’m here,”
Her eyes opened. I was so afraid of what might happen. I reached out to call the ambulance and told my address and that there is an emergency. I never stopped holding her hand. But all she did was looked at me through calm peaceful eyes, not even revealing that she was hurt.
She held you (Diary) out and thrust it in my hands and said her last words. I cried. The ambulance came too late. She was gone. So, now I’m at Keira’s house with her dad and my best friends at my side, trying to comfort me with a few (okay, a lot) of supposedly soothing words and a cup of hot chocolate.
My name is Alyson Parker and I will keep on writing. Forever and never stopping.
