I heard the hinges of the bedroom door creak. I sat up and yelled, “Goodbye!” My husband, Martin, was going to the airport to fly to New York. I looked over at the clock that was sitting on my bedside table next to one of the many crime books that I have recently been enjoying. It was 5:35 in the morning. I soon dozed back asleep and later woke up to my son, David, crying. I walked into his room and picked him up to comfort him, a task that was not foreign to me. It seemed like this was how every morning of mine started off. I would wake up to one of my two children making some type of commotion, and I would have to handle it all on my own with no help from anyone else. Martin was always busy with work, and I was left to parent the children all on my own. As much as I loved my children, I had always dreamed about going back to work to put my college degree of English literature to some use, but it just didn’t seem like a possibility unless I took matters into my own hands. I had brought it up to my husband once before, but he just did not believe that that was where I was needed.

I served the children breakfast and then walked David over to the neighbors, so he wouldn’t have to wait while Lillian, my daughter, was at the dentist.

“I am going to leave now, David, and I will see you later,” I said. As I said this, I knew it was going to be the last time I saw my son. Knowing this, I gave him a huge hug and kissed him on the forehead.

He asked, “What was that for?”

“Just because,” I responded.

I knew not seeing Lillian and David every day was going to leave an emptiness in me, but if I stayed my life would continue to seem worthless. I was done feeling trapped. I wasn’t making a difference like I had intended to do when I went to college. I had wanted to be a teacher. I tried to fill this void by becoming very involved in some local organization, but it wasn’t as impacting as I had hoped. I was planning on leaving to pursue my dream.

in the car. We went to Lillian’s dentist and did a few other errands. After we got out of the car, when we had returned home, I walked around the car and went to the trunk, and pulled out a beige trench coat. I had bought this during our outing. I was planning on wearing it when I left, so I wouldn’t look like myself. We walked across the street to the Baker’s, which was where David had been playing all morning. I knocked on the door and Barbara, the mother, opened it.

“Hello, Joan! How are you doing today?” She said cheerfully.

“Fine, thank you. Do you mind having Lillian over as well,” I asked.

“Of course. That would be no problem at all,” Barbara replied.

I patted Lillian on the back and bent down on my knees in front of her. I looked into her eyes and said, “Be good.” I gave her a hug and stood back up, and walked back across the street.

Once I was back home, I went into the kitchen, and began staging the scene. I was intending to make it seem like I was in trouble. I took the the corded telephone off the wall mount, and let it hang, so it would seem like I had been trying to call 911 in a hurry. Under the phone, I placed a phone book that was opened to the emergency section. I also threw some things on the floor, and even went as far to knock the kitchen table over. I then walked upstairs and went to the place I had been storing some cash, so I would have something to go off of when I was on my own. It was now time for me to leave. I left out the back door and walked towards the woods at the back of our yard. I walked through them until I reached the highway. I was intending to walk to the closest bus stop. I soon started to feel very paranoid that somebody I knew was going to see me. I frantically looked around as I continued to walk. Suddenly I tripped and fell into a hole that had been dug by construction workers. I hit my head at the bottom and died. I would never be able to live my dream because of a stupid accident, and I will never see my family ever again.