Tuesday, 2 December 2014

Jasmyn Street Khomasdal

Something was just off that morning. I couldn't put my finger on it. I could feel it deep down. Home was just not where I wanted to be. I suggested we all go, go visit someone, just get away for awhile, but she decided to stay. Thinking nothing of it, I let her, only cause I really wanted to go.

On the way back, his car was parked outside. I didn't want to go, but my mother insisted. We could hear her shouting at him. As we walked in, we found him locked out, trying to get in. When he saw us, he casually greeted and walked off. Thinking nothing of it, I locked the burglar bar behind me as I entered, placing the key an arms length away from the door. To our surprise, he returned mere minutes later, but this time with a gun, pointed straight at my mother. Demanding that she open up or he will shoot!

Without a thought, I ran to my window and screamed out for help into the streets. Only to find him on the other side pointing the gun straight at me. A pulled the curtain closed and ran to my mother, yelling at her to get away from the door, while he was on the other side of the house. As we huddled up in the passage, a gun shoot went off then five terrifying kicks against the glass door. It was my idea to run to the room, lock ourselves in, for when he breaks through. A another shot was fired in our direction, then another. It was so loud. But from where? The seem to becoming from everywhere! I was mere inches away from her when her loud cry went silent as she fell to the floor. He shot her! He shot through an open window. He shot her in the head!

As we pulled her closure, another went off in our direction. Then he said something, I can't quite recall, then another went off. Where was he? The slightest movement on our part triggered another shot, so helplessly we set there, to scared to even breath to loud. Waiting, just waiting for a reaction on his part or some sort of help because she was bleeding excessively onto the floor. It felt like hours as no one came in a hurry.

I couldn't wait no more, against my mothers wishes I got up, to see if I could see him, to at least know where he was. Only to find him seated, dead, on the back stoop. He had shot himself.

In timely fashion, the police and paramedics finally arrived, wanting to attend to him first while my sister laid on the floor fighting for her life. I wouldn't have it! The rage and anger I felt as I opened the front door to let them inside, only to find the whole location, every neighbour within miles, gathered outside our house as spectators.

Yet... no one, NO ONE, no one seemed to have heard our cries or attempted to help.