I knew I would never be able to atone for my mistake. Never. I knew the fact my entire family fell apart was completely my fault and no one could convince me otherwise. I left the house after curfew by sneaking out my bedroom window, just like I always do. Earlier in the evening, I swore to my dad that I would not leave the house and would go to bed early. I am still feeling the repercussions to this day. My father came to my room in a rush that night because his sister was in the hospital. He had given up driving just a few months before as he had started having seizures and was nervous to drive.
Now here I was, sneaking out after curfew to see my friends while my father goes bananas by finding my room empty. Not finding me there, my dad not only called the police, but also grabbed his car keys and ran to the Volvo. What happened next, I’ll never know because the police never could piece the whole story together. All I know was when I finally made it home shortly after my father found my bedroom empty, cops were at the front door with their lights flashing. The Volvo had been found near the hospital with all the doors open and the engine still running. The search for my father proved fruitless and thirty years later neither he nor his body have been found.