Read My Rights

1. Elijah

15 Years Earlier

Ihad always been a light sleeper.

According to Ma, it drove her up the wall when I was little as I was constantly waking up in the night. Tonight was no exception as the sound of footsteps had my eyes open of their own accord. I laid there and listened for a moment, feeling slightly anxious at the sound. I’d come to know the sounds of my family members’ footsteps and these sounded different. I sat up slowly, but I couldn’t seem to get myself out of bed. I was frozen. Was there someone else in my house? I tried to get myself to get up, but I couldn’t. My heart was pounding and I was scared. Logically, I knew I needed to get up and investigate the source of the noise to make sure it wasn’t just me over-reacting. I sat quietly listening and heard the footsteps retreating back down the stairs. They definitely were not ones I recognised.

I stood up and my hand hovered over my door knob, but I couldn’t bring myself to turn it. I don’t know how long I stood there before I heard my parents’ door open. The sound of my father’s footsteps was now following the original set down the stairs. A large crash prompted me to grab the door and yank it open. I ran down the stairs, closely followed by my mother.

In the front room my father had his hands in the air. His eyes widened with panic as I came into view. My eyes were then drawn to a man in a balaclava in front of him, holding a gun up.

“Look, there is some cash in my office. If I give it to you, will you go?” Despite the predicament he was in, my dad’s voice was calm and collected. He was a criminal defence lawyer, so he was used to remaining calm, but still his ability to remain so calm in a high-pressured situation amazed me.

“The boy can get it, you stay there.” My dad looked over to me and then my mother who was hovering on the stairs.

“Go get it, Eli.” I didn’t need to be told twice. I turned and ran into my father’s office around the corner. I knew he kept the cash in his bottom drawer, so I quickly pulled it out before returning. I paused then when I got back into the room, unsure of whether to approach the armed intruder or not.

“Bring it.” The man’s voice was harsh, but I could still sense some panic in it; like he was just as unsure about what he was doing as the rest of us.

“Let me hand it to you,” my father interjected.

“No, he brings it.”

At those words I cautiously moved forward, holding the money out as far as I could. He snatched it off me with one hand whilst keeping the gun pointed at my father. I felt my whole body shaking. He raised his hand, smacking me across the face and knocking me to the floor.

“How dare you!” My father’s voice boomed behind me as I heard him get closer. A split second later, the sound of a gunshot filled the room alongside my mother’s screams. I heard the thud as my father fell backwards onto the ground. “James!” my mother screamed as she made her way over to him.

I looked up, my eyes staring at the intruder who looked terrified at his own actions. He was staring down at his gun like he wasn’t the one who just set it off. As his eyes met mine, he turned and darted out the front door. I found my way to my feet, crashing through the door behind him.

“Elijah!” my mother screamed after me. “Elijah, stop!” Her desperate cries fell on deaf ears. I had no intention of stopping as I chased the man down the street. He could have turned and shot me at any moment, but he didn’t. He carried on running, tipping any object standing in the street to slow me down. My heart was racing as we continued down the street. I felt like I was getting closer to him, almost to a point where I could reach out and grab the back of his shirt. I suddenly felt my foot get caught in a gap in the sidewalk, throwing me forward face-down with a crash. By the time I gathered myself back up again, the man was no longer in sight. I raced round the corner, but he wasn’t there, either. I’d lost him. I stood for a few moments, hoping he would appear again, but it was no good. He was long gone. I turned and raced back to my house to find multiple emergency vehicles littered outside. I pushed past one of the officers outside and back into my house where I saw my father still on the ground, surrounded by his own blood. I could hear the sound of his voice weakly speaking to my mother as the paramedics pulled out equipment from their bag. I moved closer and crouched by his side, taking his hand in mine.

“You’re not allowed to leave me. You know that don’t you?” my mother said between sobs. “You promised me we’d spend our retirement driving the RV round the country.” I felt tears fall from my own eyes as I squeezed his hand tight, but he was giving nothing back. It was obvious his strength was fading. I watched as the paramedics started to inspect the wound, knowing soon I’d be pushed out of the way so they could move him.

“Do you remember what I told you when we got married?” His voice was weak and his words came out slowly. “I told you I hoped I went before you,” he coughed, interrupting his sentence, “because I couldn’t live a day without you, Lucy.” My mother’s sobs increased in volume.

“Not yet, please.” I was suddenly aware of a police officer ushering my siblings back up the stairs, both looking frightened as they watched. My father didn’t reply to my mother, but she continued to plead with him. I watched as his eyes closed and his breathing started to slow. The paramedics were pushing past us to get to him. There were lots of words spoken, but I wasn’t taking any of them in. All I could do was watch as they started chest compressions. Frantic voices rang as I felt arms wrap around my waist, pulling me further out of the way. I turned to see my father’s friend, Officer Daines, behind me.

“We need to get you out of the way, buddy, so they can help your dad, okay?” His voice was shaky as he continued to hold onto me. The next moments were a blur until I heard one of the paramedics say, “We are going to have to call it.” The other stopped the compressions and my mother screamed.

“No!” I shouted, fighting to escape Daines’ grip. But he held on tighter, wrestling me to the ground. “No, please! Don’t stop!” I cried out.

But it was hopeless.

My father was dead and I did nothing to stop it.

This was all my fault.