Personal Narrative: My Uncle's Murder

When I was two years old, my uncle was murdered. Being only two years old, I couldn’t process what had happened. All I knew was that because my uncle was murdered, mommy and daddy couldn’t take care of me because they were too busy dealing with his case. This went on for the next 7 years. My mother would later tell us stories about how close she was to her brother and how they would cross the bridge every day to go to school. She also showed us documents and pictures of my uncle’s murder case, when we were old enough to see them. After discovering that my uncle was murdered, I was raised by my sickly grandfather for the next 3 years of my life. These were happy times; I only have happy memories with my grandpa. My grandpa passed away from cancer when I was 5 years old. After he passed away, bad things kept happening. My grandpa was like my safe haven, he was my shield protecting me from the dark and scary world. When he died, my shield was taken from me and I was left vulnerable and alone.

The incident with Lust happened shortly after my grandfather passed away. And after I cried and yelled and begged for Pride to believe me, to help me; after I was denied and rejected and humiliated, I went mute for the next 2 years of my life. At only 5 years old, I had lost my sense of safety, understanding, and trust. During the day, I was left in the hands of Wrath. Wrath took care of me until I was 8 years old. The things that Wrath did happened every day for the next 3 years—I went emotionally numb. I had nobody to tell, nobody who would believe me — I went through life alone and