I was 14 years old when I saw my parents die. The rain washed off the blood on their dead, still warm bodies. I saw a shadow coming towards me. I ran as fast as I could, but the road was slippery. Bang! The shadow shot the gun, hitting me in the shoulder. Screaming in pain, I reached for my phone. Dialed 911. I heard sirens coming closer, closer and closer. The bright red and blue lights flashing. I could see them from a far distance. The police car was a DODGE CHARGER. The car was very dark. The car stopped and an officer stepped out.

“What happened?” asked the officer. I hesitated to answer. Again he asked me “What happened?” I felt my body getting heavier. Guilt was festering.  Was it my fault that my parents died? I saw the officer’s gun. I wanted to be with my parents as soon as possible. But I felt empty, I needed to do something. I needed to find who did this. If I stayed with the police I wouldn’t be able to do anything. So I had no choice. I ran away from the police. Getting chased by him, I jumped over a tall fence, falling onto the ground. I landed on my shoulder, screaming. I got up and ran until I lost sight of the police.

It has been six months since my parents died. I still haven't found who murdered them. Until, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket, I reacted fast and reached for my phone. The caller ID read UNKNOWN. I answered and someone spoke back in a deep voice. “It's your fault” the voice said. “My fault? What did I do?” I answered back. Again the voice told me, “ It is because of you your parents died. You are the guilty one.” Tears started to drop out of my eyes. I felt so guilty I started to punch myself. I knew It was me. I didn't remember about the call until the voice said, “Now it's your turn to die,” then the person hung up. I was afraid. I didn’t know what to do.

Above me I saw a big blue bulletin board. There was a sketching of me. The sign had a number to call. “Accused of murder” the sign read. I was blamed. I was blamed for killing my own parents, but why. I knew it wasn’t me, but if it was then the only way to get out of it was to die. I just had to die. The only words that went through my mind was death, suicide and life. I knew I was guilty. All of a sudden it got dark. I needed to sleep.

My parents were under the table. I was pointing the gun at them.
My mom screaming “Son! Leave the gun on the snow.”
“NO”, I screamed back.
        My father leaped towards me and knocked the gun out of my hand.
“STOP IT!” he screamed.
Again I screamed “NO! I won’t stop”
        I picked the gun up and pulled the trigger. My eyes opened and I breathed in relief.
“It was all a nightmare”  I told myself. Why do I always think it was me? I know it wasn’t.

I know I didn't kill them. But, I was the one guilty for their death. I sadly punched myself. Another punch went towards my face. I cried and cried until I ran out of tears. The police started chasing after me. I got up from the floor and ran.

“STOP RUNNING!” The police yelled.
“NO, I will never stop running!” I said.
“Why won’t you stop?” He answered back.
“I need to find this murderer, I just need to” I replied.
“You are the murderer,” he said as he stopped running.
“NO! I did not kill them, he killed my parents,” I answered back sadly and angry.
I took a look behind me and I saw the officer slowing down. I kept on running until I ran into a tall person. It fell like an eternity to look up at him. As I looked up I saw a gun in his hand. He had long hair and a “Desert Eagle 357” in his hand.
Was this it? Was this the end of my life? I asked myself. I was afraid. I had to keep on running. Until...BANG… the bullet whispered through the air.

The bullet flew through the air closely missing my body, but hitting the officer behind me. I took a look behind, but never stopped running. I kept on running towards the murderer and jumped on him. I punched him with all my strength. Again I punched him, and my fists were aching this time. I knew it wasn’t my fault. I put aside his hair and took a close look at him. As I noticed him I said “Why Uncle James, WHY!” I punched him again getting blood on my fists this time. I overtook the gun and pointed it at my head. I still wanted to be with my parents. But, I had a long life to go. I cleared my mind and instead of pointing it towards my head, I pointed it at James.

“Don’t do this, Jonathan, please don’t” James said.
“Why shouldn’t I?” I replied.
“Just, please don’t do it,” He said
           “You killed my parents and blamed it on me,” I said as tears started to drop out of my eyes
“I just wanted all the money” he said .
“Money? Whatever, I don’t care about the money. You killed my parents and now it is your turn to die,” I told him.

My finger was over the trigger. Getting tighter every second. Until, I finally pulled the trigger. Everyone in the city was running. I knelt down, I cried and cried. I felt the guilt leaving my mind. After pulling the trigger my mind felt as if it was new. I knew that I saved everyone else in my family. The police came towards me. I explained it all to him. I looked back and saw the blood stains on the street. I was finally safe and I knew it. I was the hero, the victim who suffered just to kill this murderer. I finally did it. I lifted my hands up and screamed into the air.
“YES! Finally,” I screamed
My aunt arrived and knelt down with me.
“What happened?” she asked.
“Uncle James killed my parents” I told her.
“I know,” she replied.
“He killed my family so I had to kill him,” I told aunty.
“Did he tell you anything about the money?” she said.
“Yes, but I really didn’t care” I replied.
“That money was not his, it was yours,” she said “He killed your parents for the money,”
“He thought he could get away with it,” I said.
“Atleast he tried,” we both stood there giggling
I got in the car to my real house in Old Greenwich, Connecticut. We went to  go get my clothes because I was moving in with my aunt. At least I knew I was safe with her and her husband, who was a police officer.