//------------------------------// // Past revealed; James // Story: Equestrian Marine Corps // by KillerShadow 15 //------------------------------// James POV I awoke to find my self in a green plain with rolling hills and blue skies with clouds dotted here and there. I looked around to see my wife smiling at me with her entrancingly beautiful blue eyes. To my right were my children. My two boys and my daughter. They were all laughing and having a great time. I realized that we were having a picnic and I had fallen asleep. But I had developed an uneasiness about my surroundings. "James, are you ok? You seem distant." I looked at Diane and smiled. "I am perfect. I've got you, Chris, Allen, and Jessie. Life couldn't be more perfect." I let out a content sigh and leaned back on my elbows and closed my eyes. When I opened them, nothing changed. Diane was still there, my kids still being kids. After a few minutes, we decided to head back home. When we arrived, there were ambulances and police cars around our house. I slammed on the brakes and got out of the car. "Diane, you and the kids stay here. I'll go see what's going on." I slammed the door shut and ran to the nearest police cruiser. "Officer, what is going on!?" The officer tuned around and spoke in a grave tone. "Sir, there is a man in there holding an older man hostage, demanding that you pay him 50 Grand in cash. We are stalling him best we can until the SWAT team arrives." I looked towards my house in fear. 'Dad was in there! How did this happen?!' "I need a gun. Give me a gun! I need to save my dad!" My statement caught the man off guard long enough for me to take his firearm and make a break for my house. I heard many yells all around me, but I ignored them all. 'I'm coming Dad, I'll save you. I promise.' I ran through the open door and took a look around. I didn't get far when a shot stopped me in my tracks. "Stop right there! Give me the 50 Gs and this man goes free!" The crazy man held a high caliber pistol level with father's beaten face. I was about start to yell at the man to drop his gun and leave my house, but a shrill yelling stopped me. "Dad! Dad, are you ok?!" I turned my head, eyes wide, to see Jessie, Allen, and Chris run in through the door. The sudden noise and movement drew the attacker's attention as the pointed his gun at them and fired off 6 shots in there direction. Everything slowed down as he fired the sixth shot, then turned, shot Dad, then himself. I was in shock. I ran to my kids, all of them on the floor in pools of their own blood. I slid to my knees in front of them while I was yelling at the top of my lungs. "NOOO! Why, God, Why! I continued to yell and cry as I held my deceased children close to me. There were voices and people all around me, as I stood up and walked to the Ass hole who killed my father and children. I looked at the 45 in my hand and pointed it at the body and fired the entire clip into him. I then collapsed to my knees and started to sob uncontrollably. Then I started to shake. There are no words that I can convey that are strong enough for me to describe the man who killed my children who will never reach their 10th birthday. My father will never reach his 60th either. The next few days were almost unbearable. I sat awake for hours on end every night reliving those last 15 minutes and regretting everything that I didn't do to save their lives. I went to work at the local gym, but it wasn't the same. People would often walk up to me, offer me their condolences, and sometimes, even hug me. But it did little to heal the wounds. The next week was the funeral. The entire town of about 20 thousand people was there. The young, the old, the weak, the strong. They all showed up and shed tears over the loss of life. Diane was never the same. She would rarely eat and never left the house. One day, about a few weeks after the funeral, I got a text message from Diane in the middle of a staff meeting. "James, I can't do it. I can't live with out our kids and Dad. I'm sorry. I love you." I dropped my phone on the table and started to cry. "James, is everything ok over there?" I looked at Mr. Overland, my boss. He was about to ask again, but I stood up and dashed out of the room, running to my car, and making a mad dash to home. Running every stop sign and red light on the way. By the time I stopped at my house, I had 9 cop cars behind me and 18 cops chasing me as I ran inside. When I bust open that door, I saw the worst sight ever. My wife, the only person whom I had ever loved more than life itself, was dead. Hanging from a rope at the top of the rafters. Her eyes were puffed closed, arms livid, and face blue. She had blood running from the corners of her mouth. I heard the police enter my house yelling, but they all stopped mid shout at the sight before them. While I sank to my knees, some of the officers removed their uniform caps while others called ambulances, Dispatch, and the fire department to get a ladder to cut the rope. I was broken. My heart had been fractured before, but now. Now, I was but a shell of a man. I couldn't cry. I had no tears left. I merely crawled to a corner and got in the Fetal Position and rocked back and forth while shaking. Next thing I new There was Darkness.