“Jenny, get out here now!” her drunken father yelled loudly over the low playing music in her stereo.
She sighed softly, while she stood up from her computer desk and took two steps toward the door. She paused and waited for him to call again, and then opened her door to see what he wanted.
She was only nine years old. She didn’t understand why her father acted like he did sometimes. He never wanted to play or give kisses and hugs. And he never spoke God’s name or read her his word. Her mother had died from an overdose of heroine when she was four. She had tried before to ask about heroine and why it killed her mother, but when she would bring it up, her father would make up an excuse to end the conversation.
“What is it, dad?” she calmly asked, while getting a Pepsi.
“I want you to watch your little brother while I go out tonight.”
Jenny opened the Pepsi can and took a small sip, “okay, no problem, but where are you going?”
“It’s none of your damn business where I’m going!” he shouted, as he turned off the TV, clumsily dropping the remote on the floor.
“Okay, God, I just wanted to know!” Jenny recoiled.
“I’m going to the bar, and don’t ever talk back to me like that again!” her father screamed, while he stumbled over to get his keys.
“Okay.” She calmly replied.
A few minutes after her father left, Jenny went into the back room and woke up her brother, Joey. He was only six, and always seemed happy.
“I’m watching you again tonight again, okay?” Jenny softly stated.
“Okay, where did daddy go?” Joey concernly asked.
“He went to that damn bar again!” Jenny pointed out.
“I wish he would stop going there…” Joey trailed off.
“Yeah, me too.” Jenny replied.
Joey got out of bed and walked into the kitchen to get a snack. While he was in the process of making a sandwich, his father sharply slammed open the back door. With an astonished look of amazement he muttered, “What are you doing awake!?”
“Uhh, no… nothing,” Joey stuttered, “just making a small midnight snack.”
“What have I told you about getting up when I’m gone!?” he knowingly asked.
“Daddy, I’m sorry.” Joey softly replied.
Jenny came back out of her room, to see what all the commotion was about, and as she saw her dad take out his gun, she turned around and jumped behind their couch. As she hid there and listened she heard her brother pleading and her father screaming. She peeked up over the rim of the couch in time to see her dad shoot Joey and then take his own life.
She began sobbing and jumped out from behind their couch to call 911. As she waited for the police to get there, she got back behind their couch and just set there and hid. She realized that her dad couldn’t help himself when he was drunk. She know that if he would have never been drunk he wouldn’t have even thought about shooting Joey, or himself.
When the police arrived at her house, they had ambulances take Joey and her father to the hospital even though it was obvious that they were gone. And they took Jenny to an orphanage.
She was taken by a new mom and a new dad, and got kisses and hugs and everyday. She had been with her new parents for a week when they took her to church for the first time.
On her first day of Sunday school, the teacher walked in. She said hello, and began with a prayer. During the prayer Jenny noticed a picture on the wall. After they were done praying, Jenny raised her hand.
“Yes Jenny?” the teacher asked happily.
“I just wanted to ask the name of the man up there on that cross, because I know him.” She explained.
“What do you mean, you know him?” the teacher concernly replied.
“Yeah, I know him, but I don’t know his name or why he is on that cross, but I know he got off, because he was there in my old house. He held me close to his side, while I hid there behind our couch, the night that my family died.” She went on.
The teacher was silent, the only sign of feelings she showed was just a single tear running down her cheek.
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