My First Writing Piece

September 18, 2005



Marcus pushed his key into the lock and turned it slowly. The back door fell open and he stepped into the kitchen, the tiled floor absorbing the sounds of his steps. The kitchen was spotless and showed no signs of anyone being home. He moved into the hallway and slid his book bag onto the floor.



“Marcus!” the shrieking voice traveled from upstairs, sending shock through his body.

“Shit,” he mumbled under his breath. “What?”

Newports and Bacardi crept into his nose as his mother stomped down the stairs.

“Give me $20,” she said putting on her jacket as she came into the kitchen.

“I don’t got it.” He put his jacket on a hook and grabbed his book bag.

“What do you mean you don’t got it?” she questioned as her hands went to her hips and her voice got louder.

“I had to buy dinner yesterday.” He started up the stairs to his room in the attic with his mother inches behind him.

“There was food here already. That’s your fault for being an idiot. Just give me the damn money. Don’t start your shit today,” she shouted, getting in his face.

“There ain’t been no food here in days, you just been too busy out running the streets to notice.” He backed up against the attic door.

“I can do whatever the hell I want. I damn sure don’t want to be here with you three ungrateful little bastards.”

“Yea yea, the only one that matters is your precious little Bobby.” He opened the door and went up the rest of the stairs.

“He’s the only one with some sense. The rest of yall walk around here like can’t nobody tell yall shit. I wish I never would’ve had yall.”

“No he’s the only one you could brainwash into going along with your lies…and you know what? I wish you never would’ve had us either. We all would’ve been better off,” he said as he walked into his room.

“Fuck you,” she yelled, smacking him in the face. “I don’t need you, I don’t need none of yall. I don't have to be here. You’re a sad excuse for a son.”

“You’re a sad excuse for a mother.”

He went over to the dresser and started to tap on the top of it.

“We never did anything to you but you still treat us like shit, especially Sam. I never seen a so called mother treat their daughter the way you treat her and you wonder why she acts the way she does now. She’s been through more at 14 than most people have by the time their 30 because of you.” He opened the top drawer and stared at his father's old Smith & Wesson he had stashed away. "Do you know how much pain you put us through everyday? Sam and Bobby can’t stand to be in the same room as each other and Jerry never wants to come home. We walk around here miserable and upset all the time because of you. Maybe you should feel what we feel." He took the gun out of the drawer.

“I don't know what you think you're going to do with that but ever since your dad died you been walking around here like you run shit. He’s probably turning over in his grave right now watching you.”

“Don’t bring my daddy into this. You don't even care about us. You don’t care if we breathe or not and I feel the same way about you.” He started to sweat as his index finger found the trigger.

“I don’t deserve this. All I ever tried to do was be a caring parent and give yall whatever yall wanted but no, yall didn't appreciate it,” she said, crying hysterically. “Please Marcus, stop. Don’t do this to me.”

“You always pull the victim card once somebody catches on to your game. Not any more.”

“No. Marcus, stop. I love-“

Everything went quiet. She let out a few small coughs and collapsed to the floor.

Marcus took a step back and lowered the gun, his hand shaking violently. He sat down on the bed and put his head in his hands.

“Maybe they would be better off if I was gone too. I mean I was the main reason for the arguments and the fights over the years...yea, maybe they would be better off.”

He sat down at his desk and took out a pen and paper. He scribbled a 3 page letter to his 2 younger brothers and younger sister.

“To Robert, Jermaine and Samantha. Love, Marcus.” He signed it to the only people he really cared about and stood up. The barrel touched his chest while his finger found the trigger again.

“Lord, I know this is probably a crazy time for me to pray after what I just did but this one isn’t for me, it’s for my little brothers and sister. Please watch out for Bobby, Jerry and Sam. I love them with all my heart and I know that I’ve done a lot of wrong in my life that I should be punished for but please don’t make them suffer for it. Don’t let them suffer anymore for what happened in the past. They've been through a lot and they just need a break but please help them understand that it's up to them to take care of each other now. They’re all they got. Amen.”

He squeezed the trigger one last time and everything went quiet again.