Tree House of Justice

It’s almost 4 o’clock on the afternoon, Mom's cooking our favorite snack and also preparing a lemon juice that we love, brother’s playing his guitar and here I am push pinned on my own business, I can hear the stunning song of chirping birds suspiciously fading out and I can feel the humid air being replaced by the well know summer breeze. It’s confirmed, vacation is on. No more studying and focused on our sweet treasurable time playing. As I soared out of bed I’ve seen my friends, I wave my small hand and scream so they’ll see me, apparently they looked up, dazed and then smiled, throwing they’re cute painted pebbles at us then started to laugh. Playing cute toys on our little tree house and jamming to my sibling's self-composed song, but suddenly I realized there’s blood in my dress I cried so hard that I forgot my playmates are there, my tooth was gone and they laughed at me like its funny and my emotions popped. I stare at them like I’m about to manslaughter every Tom, Dick, and Harry.

Half of hour has passed it’s almost 5’oclock, still can’t get over of the little tooth of mine that’s gone, I get my coloring book and we start to paint every picture in there, blue for the clouds, green for the leaves, yellow for the sun and pink for our own tree house, we’re enjoying it like there’s no tomorrow, on the next page we start again but my friend spills the watercolor, our wooden floor was wet and it keeps on dripping downwards and a yell echoed in our place because on that very under rests Auntie Rita, we’re done for now and soon to be ready for some little scolding so our mouth was zipped. One, two, three, four, five, six and seven, Aunt’s climbing our tree house like nothing happened, her hair was braided and looks like a taekwondo black belter. We’re trying to stop our laughter because her face looks like a nonfigurative canvas but if our laugh burst we’re truly done for a beating nevertheless we’re mistaken she continues to walk and reached our mirror fixed at our wall and we’re all stunned even my brother stopped playing his guitar since a witch-like laugh was heard throughout our tiny town. She also makes fun of her face and start using a paintbrush on, how funny she is.

An afternoon in our tree house nearly ends and evening is coming, my friends wave goodbye ‘cause for every time we looked on our little window there’s their mother waiting for them to come back home and we’re surprised. One, two, three, four, five, six and seven I accompanied them before they go and wave them goodbye but then each of their mother hold slippers on their hands and give them a beating as long as they come, my laughter and pity are jumbled but I’ve got nothing to do but stare at them and go back to our tree house.

Mom’s now finished cooking my snack and we’re eating together as long as I’m done I cleaned all the mess we’ve caused but then I broke my mom’s favorite cup. I was taken aback as light beams caressed onto my eyes.

Oh I’ve dreamed about that good old days and I start to jump off my bed, I’m on this little tree house of us and memories reminisced, I took my camera and positioned it so I can take good picture of our old family. One, two, three, four, five, six and seven I’ve climbed down so I can capture the full perspective of our memory maker and takes three deep breaths, as long as I clicked the camera my happiness starts to replenish and a tear on my eyes fell down, how cute it is to came back on those days where all I have is nothing to worry just our complete family that I love. But here in my spot, I remember everything. In this tiny tree house exactly in this hour of the afternoon, my mother was killed, my brother was killed and I’m glad I survived. One, two, three, four, five, six and seven I’ve climbed up again I still can hear the footstep of that murderer and I can still see what he looks like, I knew his face and I’ll never forget that, never forget the face where I came from. The man who built this little tree house, the man who’s loved by my mother was also the cause of their death, yes you’re right Dad killed them, my Dad is a murderer.

I print out the entire picture I have and smiled, soon I will leave, soon I will not remember, soon I will not recall memories, soon I will meet them and soon we will live again on this tiny tree house of ours, this tiny murder spot. It’s exactly 3:53 of the afternoon and it’s about time, a headline about a 28 years old woman will be circulated just in a little time. I took my camera and print out my dad’s picture as soon as it comes out I write this on the back; My Dad Kills Me, Not just me but my Family. On an afternoon on our tree house, look back on a case from 20 years ago and everything will end.

Two minutes have passed and its 3:55 o’clock I’ll drink the lemon juice which I prepared to remember my mom, I get my guitar and sang the song my brother composed. It’s very soon, I start to tamper the things in our little tree house and closed my eyes as I hang up a rope on the roof of ours then I get my favorite old chair so I can put it under. Now it’s 3:59, the last sixty seconds of my life. One, two, three, four, five, six and seven I go back on to the beneath of our tree house for the last time I’ll smell the afternoon summer breeze on our tree house for the last time. One, two, three, four, five, six and seven I’ll end it now. I hang myself for justice, my life ends. The story of my family finishes, the story of the girl that spent the last summer afternoon of her life in a tree house kills herself. The book will unfold as well as the dark side of our so called home in one, two, three, four, five, six and seven. It’s time to say goodbye now, please remember this summer afternoon on our tree house.