A Mother's Love - Ivan Miller

Chapter 1. Imminent Murder

When I was ten years old, I did something horrific. You would not think a ten year old was capable of such a crime, but I was. I was capable of anything: for my mother.

As a child, my mother would always keep me safe. After my biological father died when I was small, she remarried right away, in hope to give me a proper father. She would never let anything happen to me. I guess that’s what a mother’s love consists of. We were best of friends. We would do everything together. Sure, my dad (I call my stepfather dad or father) was always around, but it just wasn’t the same with him. I don’t blame him, it’s not his fault my mother was my best friend; I guess that’s just how it all worked out.

Well, this action was out of instinct, as well as love. When I was ten, this single moment in time, this one night, has changed my life forevermore. We were all asleep one night, when I had to get up to get a drink. I suddenly heard something. This sound was very peculiar, it sounded like some type of scratching, but I wasn’t sure what it was. This noise frightened me. It sounded like it was coming from somewhere near my parents’ room. What if my mother was in jeopardy?

Acknowledging danger could be awaiting me; I crept out, and slowly tiptoed into the hallway. Luckily, my parents’ door was already open, which kept me from having to risk my security with the shriek of their doorknob. I edged my way in, only to find a man crawling in through their window, with another man on the outside; both wearing masks. He must have cut through the glass causing the strange noise. I did not want to give away my position by screaming, or attacking, but I had to let my parents know about the intruder somehow. My ten-year-old brain wasn’t as good as it is now, so my instinct had to suddenly take over. I racked my brain for anything that could help me in this time of need; and that’s when I remembered the gun dad kept in the kitchen.

I raced back to the kitchen, as fast as I could without making a noise. I knew how to shoot this gun. I have been to the shooting range many times with my family. Mom knew the only way she would permit dad to keep a gun in the house was if we all knew how dangerous it was, and how to use it. We kept the bullets two drawers down, and before I knew it, I was ready to go back into my parents’ room. This time I was prepared. This time, I had a determination: to kill.

As I approached, again, I crawled as I did before, but this time with more speed. All in an instant, I saw this man bowed over my mother. What did he think he was doing messing with my mother? How dare he! It began to look dangerous. I could not even see his face, but I knew he was going to kill her; it seemed imminent.

The man I killed did not even see his killer. He saw not my determined face. After the explosion, he fell over backwards. I shot him square in the chest. That was the safest place, and furthest away from harm to my mother. That was the safest position, to put to rest the bullet in his heart. That spinning bullet set my whole life whirling, starting on that solitary night.

Chapter 2. Repercussion

The gunshot set everything in motion: everything except for a dead man lying on the ground basking in his own blood, and me. I sat there, startled. The gun was still in my hands, where I had aimed it so fervently and steadily, only seconds before. I saw the other man outside the window running away. Later on, it puzzled me as to how I saw it, but I saw it: a brightly colored green frog, tattooed on the back of his neck. That was the last thing I remembered about that man, who was in on the scheme, the overall scheme of tearing my family apart: a frog tattoo. Would he ever know the trouble he caused that night? What was his purpose there? Why were they trying to harm my mother? I had so many unanswered questions at that single moment in time. Nevertheless, time went on, and I immediately felt the repercussion of that single shot of time in my life.

Like I said earlier: the gunshot set the scene in motion. Quickly after it, both my parents sat up as if their bed was sending fire through their bones. They looked around, trying to gather everything about that horrific scene. The next moments are still somewhat of a blur to me. I was only ten you know. I remember my father speaking first, calling to ask if everybody was okay. My mother was screaming. She saw me with the gun, still pointed in her direction, but quickly glanced down at the fallen body beside her.

They asked me what happened, seeing as how I was the only person in the room who was lively able to explain the occurrences of the instant prior to the present time. Through tears, I explained the noise that I heard while I was getting a drink. I told them how I snuck in, and saw the intruder. I told them of how I got the gun, and came back in with the impending intent to murder. I told them of how I took aim, just as I learned to, how I squeezed the trigger, and upon firing, saw my victim fall.

Now was when my ten-year-old brain ceased, and it was time for dad’s brain to start. It was now, somewhat, out of my hands. My father started talking to mom breathlessly. It seemed as though he was devising a plan. I didn’t notice it earlier, but my ears were still ringing form the gunshot. Dad’s words just seemed jumbled. I noticed my mom crying, tears beading down her cheeks, illuminated in the moonlight. I could not believe what I was hearing. She kept saying, “Save him, save him the pain. I will go, I will take his place.” I did not know what this meant, but much to her demise, she told dad to take me away. It was so displeasuring, to see my mom suffering in this way. I thought I realized what she was saying, but could not take it all into my mind. She wanted to take my place! She wanted to take the blame for my murder! Surely there must have been some kind of mistake; how could she perform such a loving, selfless deed? It was out of self-defense anyways, wasn’t it? I was no criminal, was I?

After this bit of talking, mom said, “it is time.” She called the police. She sounded panicked on the phone, even though she had moderately calmed down while talking to dad. She told them that she shot an intruder! I tried to yell out, but before I knew it, dad had unexpectedly seized me, and quickly picked me up and ran me to my room. He shut the door, and locked me in, but not without telling me how my mother was taking my punishment, and that I had better keep quiet during all of this. Father did not want me out there in the midst of confusion. He said he was going to tell the police how I was in my room the whole night, and how I had not left, for I was a heavy sleeper. That was where the lying began.

Chapter 3. Postmortem

Moments later I heard police cars screeching to a standstill outside of our house. I heard the sirens screaming, and could only think of what it would be like to have them take me away: from my family, from my home, and from my life. I did not like to dwell on that thought, but I had to! I killed a man that night! Moreover, my mother would likely be taking that horrifying trip away from home that night, because of her love for me. I could hear it happening, but I could only weep in agony. I wanted so badly to run out there, to embrace her, to let the police know how it was I who committed this crime, but I knew I couldn’t, but more importantly, I knew I shouldn’t. I didn’t want her to go, but after all, it was her choice to lie, and I respect her will.

The police stayed around for the rest of the night. I can speculate it was for various reasons: to keep a watch incase there were more intruders coming, to keep investigating the scene, and to prevent anybody from escaping. I was almost sure they already had my mother in a car, and if not already gone, soon to be gone. I could hear them talking about cleaning up the body, taking it away as soon as they could, and apologizing to my father for the inconveniences they were causing. Finally, I decided it was time to go back to sleep. The next day would be very eventful, and it seemed as though the action had stopped for that night.

The nightmares ceased the next morning with a knock at my door. It was my father. He asked if he could come in and sit down, and I welcomed him. We talked, long and hard about the night’s events. He confirmed that mom had been taken in and arrested. I asked why she wanted to take the blame, but all he could say was she loved me too much to see my life ruined at such an early age. He explained they had a trial date set for a few months away to determine what would happen to mom, so they all needed to be working diligently to prepare for that.

The expected question finally came out: “Are you alright?” He asked. I told him I just wanted to save mom. I told him how much of a threat I thought that man was to our family. I told him I would never be all right after what happened, and how it was my entire fault. He did his best to comfort me, but the news he was about to reveal was all but comforting.

Dad explained some of what the police found. I did not want to believe it, but I had to. They searched the dead man’s body, but could find no trace of any type of weapon, besides the tool used to cut the glass. I couldn’t believe it! Was he not there to kill my mother? If so, was my act not out of self-defense or merely out of anger ridden hatred? This fact put a completely new twist on what would happen to mom. If I shot a defenseless man, then surely somebody would have to receive punishment, not for the grounds of defense, but for murder.

Chapter 4. Chain Reaction

The next day seemed eternal to me. All I could do was sit, and dwell on my fresh memories of the night before. I kept seeing in my head the robber hunched over my mother. I knew he wanted to harm her; my intuition told me I could not sit and let it happen. I was not going to begin to question my motives now. I knew what I had done, and now I knew I had to live with the consequences. Another thing I kept remembering was the strange tattoo the other man had. He must have run away as soon as he gunshot, but I distinctively remembered a vivid green frog on his neck. That picture will be in my mind forever. I hated that man as much as I did the other one. How dare they try to harm my family? I know I was only ten, but I remember it as if it was yesterday.

The day afterwards, dad explained to me many changes that would be taking place over the next few years in my life. Because of one simple moment in time, my whole life would soon change. That one action caused an entire chain reaction. Since I had just graduated from the fifth grade, it would be easier to carry out the next step in this elaborate process. I would continue attending school, which was what mom would have wanted me to do. She gave her freedom so I could have mine. I would now continue school as a new person though: a changed boy, both inside and out. We thought of a pseudonym for me. I would now go by this name forever, in fear for my life, in knowledge that the second robber would be looking for his revenge on me. We also knew we had to move houses. If this man were determined to kill me, he would surely do anything to find the murderer of his friend and partner in crime. We surely could not move to another state, owing to the fact that mom was in a local prison, and my dad could not leave his job. Besides, we didn’t want to look too insecure.

Time passed by, and after a few months, the approaching day finally came: the essential court trial. I hadn’t seen mom in a long time. I could not see her, only dad could. Seeing her in court was a great sight, even without the permission to talk. I remembered that love we had shared with each other for so many years, and immediately I was flooded with tears; tears of joy, and of sadness for what I had created. My father quickly snapped at me, and clarified that if I could not keep myself together then I’d have to leave, otherwise I would ruin everything. I kept crying, but willed myself to keep my sobs down to a minimum, I did not want to miss this day.

Chapter 5. Intent to Steal

When my mother swore in, I could not help but think of how she was preparing to turn herself into a liar, but not just with any lie, but a lie specially chosen for my sake.

They started asking her questions. At first they were simple, but cultivated into more difficult questions, testing mom’s willpower, strength, and most important of all: honesty.

The lawyer explained how the murderer had no weapon into which he could do harm, besides, of course, the device used to cut the window open. The lawyer also explained how he felt the robber had intent to steal, not to kill. Mom looked from the lawyer, to me, and back to the lawyer again. Dad got very nervous at that time; he did not want to lose this case. The lawyer noticed this, but proceeded on talking, this time about me. He asked mom where I was during the murder. She explained I was safe in my room, asleep the whole time; I was a heavy sleeper. The lawyer found this hard to believe, and could almost place a suggestion of falsity in mom’s voice. He noted this falsity to the jury. This wasn’t looking good.

Mom stayed up there for a long time. The lawyer was trying very hard to break her down, and sadly, was succeeding. Dad was constantly telling the lawyer to object, which, while helping mom, only added to the confusion.

The court called a recess, and afterwards, my father did something that was entirety against my will. He did not permit me to come into the next part of the trial. I detested him at this moment. What would mom do without me? Was she supposed to stay up there all by herself without me guiding her through my very eyes and motions? As much as I begged dad, I was unable to sever him from this crucial decision.

The court shut the doors again, and there I stayed, alone to the world. When the lawyer said the robber had intent to steal, this meant so much more to me now. The robber stole much more than what he was planning on stealing. He stole away his own life. He stole away the life of my mother from my grasp. He stole my bond with my father. The robber did a terrible thing that night. I realized how I did not feel bad for taking his life.

Chapter 6. State of Prison

To this day, I still do not know much of what happened in that courtroom. Dad was unwilling to tell me, and mom was gone. I waited outside the doors for what seemed like an eternity. People gave me unwelcoming stares, points, and whispers. I was utterly alone. I had nothing left in this world; I was in a fixed, total solitude. I don’t know how long I waited there, thinking and crying but soon, the doors burst open. First, I saw two officers carting my handcuffed mother between them. Although already crying, she burst out into tears at the sight of me, as did I at the sight of her. She had such amazing strength.

Dad was following closely behind her. I chased after them, and caught up with dad. He told me he had only five minutes to be by himself with mom. He told me to tell her goodbye now, because I would not have visiting rights. With a big hug, I gave my farewell to mom, letting her know I loved her so much, and thanked her so much, for what she was doing. She responded with an “I love you,” and told me some day I would understand.

When we got home, I felt very empty. My life was full of seclusion. I lost the one dear thing I loved. With this loss, I also lost every hope of being with my mother again. We lost the case. Mom was in a state prison, but I too, was in a state of prison. My prison was the house around me. My prison was the solitude, which overwhelmed my thoughts, my dreams, and my life. I was no longer free. With my mother’s imprisonment came mine.

Later on that day, dad and I talked about his conversation with mom. He explained how he promised to give me the fruitful life she gave hers. He said he could never replace her, but he will do his best to make my life pleasurable. He also explained how they discussed always keeping a watchful eye for the second robber, who will surely be looking for revenge on me, because he was the only other person who knows the real identity of the murderer of the robber, his friend, on that devastating night.

Dad said goodnight to me, and I crawled into my new bed, in our new house. I felt more guilt-ridden that night than I ever had. It was finished now; it was hopeless. Mom was sitting somewhere in prison for my sake, and there I sat in bed, with the walls of her prison, in my life.

Chapter 7. One Moment in Time

Well, time went on. I kept attending school, under a false name I told you about earlier. I could never do any extracurricular activities, out of my dad’s fear that nobody was guarding me. Every day was a constant challenge, because we never knew if, or when the second robber would ever decide to show up to take his revenge.

One time I had a good friend, and decided to bring him to my house after school. Dad was furious! Luckily, he let the friend stay for a few hours, but when he was gone, I got the worst punishment I had ever received. He asked how I could be so stupid, and so dumb as to try to give away our position. I was never subject to any abuse, verbally or physically when mom was around, and I reminded this to dad. He said mom was gone, and she will be forever, so I had better get used to it. He was the rule maker now, and he would make the decisions. “Don’t you know your mother is living out your sentence as we speak? We want it to be worth something!” He erupted at me one day. “If I had it my way I would have my wife by my side every single day and night, but because of you I don’t. So don’t get yourself killed by being so careless!” He continued.

Time passed. I was under the same imprisonment for all of those years. Every night I would think. I would think long and hard about what would happen if I found the second robber. Yes, if I found him. He wouldn’t find me, I’d find him; and this time I would be ready. It was because of him, and his partner I was not normal. He was the only one left to punish now. My mother’s punishment was prison for all of these years, my father’s was a lost wife to this tragedy, and then there was me. I suffered the worst punishment out of everybody. I lost my loving companion. I lost all hope of a normal childhood. It was ruined. Everything of mine was lost because of one moment in time. So now, it was my turn for my moment.

Dad put bars on all of the windows. Every night he would lock my door, to keep me from escaping. He also put a security system on our house, for which I did not have the code. I didn’t know what would happen when I turned eighteen. I would have to have a guarantee to some freedom I thought. However, I could not wait that long. I was seventeen, and I was ready.

Chapter 8. The Morsel of Hope

During school, I had been devising this scheme. I had to think of some way to get out of my house: to escape. Mom sat trapped in her prison forever, but there was hope I could get out of my false prison, created by a false authority. I knew the bars would be too hard to escape out of, but my door was locked, and there was a security system on the whole house. All of these obstacles were supposed to keep robbers out, but it seemed more so that they were there to keep me in. Nevertheless, nothing could keep me bound in this excessive imprisonment.

I chose the night carefully. It would be a night my dad was going to be out late for a work party they were having. I clung on to the morsel of hope he would be too far under the influence of other matters to pay attention to locking up the house properly. Nevertheless, I prepared myself for everything.

I learned how to pick locks in order to get out of my room when I was fourteen. This came in useful if I ever wanted a snack at night. Of course, dad didn’t know this, otherwise he would have changed the locks to something more secure. As for the security system, I was hoping somehow to shut off the power, long enough to get out of the house. A few weeks before my escape, while my father was gone at work, I spliced a wire to a switch, which I then ran into my room, making it able for me to shut off the power to certain points in our house whenever I needed. I was willing to do anything to get out of this prison, and I felt I took all precautions necessary.

On the night I was planning to get out, I sat up casually watching some movies alone. When my father walked in, he ordered me to bed, and we went through the regular process of him locking me into my room. I waited, well aware of any noises around the house, for about an hour. When I heard his door shut, I knew I should allow plenty of time for him to get to a deep sleep. My preparations were not worth ruining because of a wish to hurry through them. After waiting another hour, I was ready to go.

I flipped the switch, just as planned, turning off the alarm. After picking the lock, I noticed the alarm panel on the wall; not a single light was lit up. That much had worked. I locked back up my door, then walked through the kitchen. I also grabbed our gun, along with plenty of ammunition. I pledged to myself I was out for revenge. Remember? This time I said I would be ready.

I snuck out the back door and walked back to my bedroom to flip the switch back on. That way, in case dad got up, he would notice everything in perfect order how he left it.

I went to the front yard to the driveway where I parked my car every day. I unlocked it, and silently went in. I put the key in, but did not start it, knowing the startling noise could wake my father up. I turned the key enough for me to be able to put my car into neutral. With my foot out the door, I guided my car into the street, and began to push it down the block. I got about four houses down, and decided I was ready to start it.

Chapter 9. Like an Outlaw

I drove for about half an hour, not too sure exactly where I was going, especially since the only thing I knew I was looking for was a green frog on a guys neck. I began to get tired so I decided to pull into a parking lot, and sleep. When I awoke the next morning, I went to a restaurant for breakfast. It was very lonely, and I felt like I was doing something illegal. I felt like an outlaw. Later on that night, I went to another restaurant for dinner. I’m still amazed at the chance with what I’m about to tell you. As I was sitting there in the restaurant, I looked out the window, and saw a black van pass by. You’re probably wondering why I am telling you this, but this van had something peculiar on the back, a sticker, with a neon green frog on it.

I immediately ran outside to my car, and began to follow it. I knew I had to stay at a safe distance so as not appear to be following him. We came to a stoplight, and I was directly behind it. There, was the exact same figure was on the second robber’s neck seven years before then. That was the same frog that haunted my dreams all of those years. I wondered if it was the man driving it, it must have been, right?

I continued following it. He took me back to a park that was very near to my house. It was risky going back so close, my dad could have seen me if he drove for only a couple of minutes, and he was undoubtedly looking for me the whole day, but it was worth the risk.

He got out, and there it was! The tattoo was right where I remembered it. I wanted so badly to shoot him right then, but I had to see him. I had to see the face that belonged to the one who had put my mother into prison for all of these years. I had to see the face of this victim. The last one I didn’t see, but this one I had to. I grew attached to him: through my dreams, through my thoughts, and soon, through my very actions. He stepped out of the driver’s side door, and walked over to the back door. He opened it, and crawled in. It looked like there could have been a bed back there. He was going to sleep for the night!

Chapter 10. Fearful Surrender

This time was different. This time I had a whole night to think. Questions exploded in my mind like fireworks. Should I run over to my father’s house and let him know of my findings? Should I call the police? Why would he just lie down and sleep? Has he committed another crime, and was he still on the run? I decided against going back home, I decided against anything that did not involve staying in sight of this van.

I waited, and again it felt like an eternity. I did not let myself sit down, or lean on anything in fear of falling asleep. He was not going to get away this time. While I was waiting, I tried to keep myself busy. I took down the license plate number, and the make of the van. I checked my gun, and got all of the rounds loaded in the chamber. I was not going to leave without a fight. As I was pacing, I tried to think of what I was going to say, or do, when he finally did get out. As I was pacing, at the first sign of light, I heard it: the door click open.

Out he walked, and for the first time in my life, I caught a glimpse of his face. Here he was, this man I have been waiting to take revenge on for so many years. This man wants to take revenge on me, for the murder I committed seven years before this moment. In a way, we have both taken lives. I took the other robber’s life, and he took away my mother’s. However, mine was quick and painless, his has been drawn out for too long now. It was time. Now was my moment.

While I was trying to decide whether or not to embrace a conversation with him, he spotted me. I had my gun hidden out of his sight, but he pointed at me, and shouted, “You!” He remembered me. He knew who I was, just as much as I knew who he was. He started to charge at me when I pointed my gun at his face. This stopped him. He put his hands up in a fearful surrender. This was my chance, my moment I was waiting for.

A car drove by, but did not stop. Another one did, but this one I recognized. It was my father. He jumped out and started running towards me. If I was going to shoot, then now was the time. Dad shouted at me, “No! Don’t do it!” What simple words erupted more thoughts in my mind. Surely, he knew who this was. Surely, he knew it was because of this man he was wifeless.

Everything was still. I could sit here as long as I needed. I felt solitude again. For so many times in my life, I felt alone, here was another time. All that was going on was resting on me, and my next action.

I thought. I thought long, and hard. I could shoot him now, and be a true convict for the rest of my life, because this man, as far as the law was concerned, was innocent. I thought about my father. If he did not want me to shoot this man, then surely I shouldn’t. I have disobeyed him in the past, so many times, so why should this be any different? Whatever I did do, I was not going to do it simply because of my father. Then the thought came to me.

For whom was I doing this? I was doing this for my mother. My mother was the reason I was sitting in a park early in the morning, with a gun pointed at a man, with my father just feet away. I was here for my mother, so I sought her advice. I remembered how nurturing she was. She never wanted to harm anything. I was so safe with her. At that moment, I knew what I must do. She was whom I knew to listen. Mom taught me well. I spared this man’s life.

I called out to my dad first: “call the police.” As he began to head back towards his car, I called out to the robber. The first thing I said to him in my whole life was “do not move, otherwise I will show no mercy, and I will shoot.” I said it slowly; I said it knowing he was listening attentively.

I sat there the whole time until the police came. They told me to lower my weapon, and without delay cuffed the man, who was nearly my next victim. They told us all to go to the police station, and so we did.

Chapter 11. Great Sense of Belonging

The police put the man into custody. They told us they would question the man as to the events of seven years ago, and schedule another trial for my mom. They gave us a date, and told us we were free to go.

On the way, home I talked to dad about the events of the previous days. He forgave me, knowing how unnecessary he then realized the precautions he was taking against me were. When we got home, we started the rebuilding process. The bars came off my window, and dad let me know the initiation code for the security alarm. He clarified that we were in this together now, and for the first time since mom was around, I felt a great sense of belonging.

We began talking about the trial, which was soon to come. We discussed the possible questions and outcomes the opposing lawyer would surely ask during the trial. Our biggest fear was the fact that the robber knew who killed the other robber: not my mom, but I. One week before the trial, we were still pondering what we were going to do about this pressing matter. We knew that he knew the concealed truth, veiled for seven years already. However, a phone call we received the night one week before the trial quickly put this matter behind us. I don’t know whom the phone call was from, but I know enough from dad’s response it was probably from the prison that mom was staying in, or something close to that.

Immediately dad told me to get in the car, we were going to the hospital. On the way, there he explained something to me. He told me there was something he had not told me; which he should have told me more than seven years ago. Trying to explain this to me really hurts still. This part of my life was more tragic than it was seven years before, which might be very hard to believe. What my father said to me next changed my life forever. Solemnly, he declared that my mother was dead. He was in tears as he said it. I cried out in disbelief. I asked him how she could possibly be dead, so he explained.

Dad said that a doctor diagnosed mom with cancer just more than seven years ago. They were planning to tell me as soon as they were sure, but the night came that the disaster happened, so they didn’t get a chance to tell me. While locked in my room, I remember hearing mom and dad conversing, and remembered it was mom’s idea to take my place. Dad explained how she said she would possibly be dead sometime soon, and so the sentence would be cut shorter if I were to have taken the blame. Dad said he argued, saying they would let me off for being so young, but mom didn’t want to take the chance, saying the murder was premeditated enough that they may still want to put him in jail. Therefore, when the police came, she admitted to the crime, thinking they would possibly let her off on a self-defense charge, but she could not avoid the lingering truth, that there could be a conviction of murder.

I could not believe what I was hearing. Mom loved me so much she was willing to spend the last days of her life in prison for a crime that I committed. This overwhelmed me. Dad kept on explaining when he got to visit mom alone in that room for five minutes so long ago, how she made him promise not to take me to visit. Therefore, he kept his promise, by saying that I would not have visiting rights, for her sake. She didn’t want me seeing her in such bad shape. She didn’t want me to know at all she was sick. She had so much hope that I could live normally that she did not want to hinder it at all, and, in a sense, she hoped I would simply forget her and get on with my life so I would not have to suffer for all of these years. In all of the times that I believed I was in solitude, that I thought my dad hated me, and wanted to keep me miserable, the truth was, he loved me enough to not tell me. Surely, when I escaped, he feared for me, hoping that I would not find out about her.

This realization changed my life, and helped me to understand I really did belong to this family, this family in which I felt like an outcast for so long. All of these years that I felt so lonely all of the time I should not have.

So, now I write to you, what I have learned about a mother’s love. I should have realized, even furthermore how much my mother loved me. My mother’s love conquered my penalty. My mother’s love kept me safe. I have learned that a mother’s love will always cause her to put her child in front of her: whatever the outcome.

A Mother’s Love

Ivan Miller

16 Years Old