Seventh grade came and I didn’t expect any better. My parents got divorced and suddenly it seemed like they had their problems to deal with. So, we talked even less. I walked into the house like any other school day it was a beautiful day and there lied my father on the ground in front of the door. I stared in shock as my loving father had a hole and no explanation or apology near him. I bent down and I cried there for what could have been a whole afternoon. I started getting hungry and I remembered that my dad, the one who made my food every day was on the floor. I used to complain every day that he wouldn’t make my favorite food and now I promised myself, all of them are my favorite. I ran out of the house screaming on the door of my neighbor's house. She answered the door and asked, “what are you doing here in the middle of the night”. I responded “my father! My father—he has-has-died. She stared at me like I was crazy and said, “Is this one of your pranks?”. I kicked myself on the leg for all those pranks I had pulled around the neighborhood, now no one would believe me. I said, “come see please help”. I begged. She finally went over slowly towards my house. At the sight of my dad dead she screamed, super high pitched, enough to wake all the nosy neighbors up. She said, “what have you done to him?!”. I started speaking. But she hushed me saying “you and your pranks”. Suddenly in a matter of seconds, she had dialed 911 before I realized what was happening. I would have begged her not to, but I was done fighting my dad had died and that was all that I cared about right now. I threw myself on the floor rocking myself to sleep. I woke up to unexpected loud silence.