I've never seen Drake look as happy as he has since he began living with me. I'll never forget the sparkle in his eyes as he looked up at me when the adoption papers came through. He is my son. He will always be my son. The day he first called me mom I cried. He didn't ask for much. That day in the hall, when I got him to talk, I didn't know what to say. I had met his aunt and uncle shortly before. I knew there was something wrong with them, but I never imagined all that they forced him through.
Drake M. Andgore-Kenshin. I love him. I should have done better...
It was Saturday. One of Drake's friends was coming over to play. When the doorbell rang I went to the door and opened it without looking out. Drake was at the bottom of the stairs when the door opened. I'll never forget the look in their eyes. I tried to close the door on them, but he shoved me to the ground. Drake. He looked so scared. He froze completely for a moment. He backed up a little but tripped over the bottom stair. I tried to get up to help him. She pulled out a gun and shot me in the upper arm. I feel to my knees in pain and terror. When I looked up I saw Drake struggling. He was screaming in pain and protest. I couldn't bare to look, but I couldn't look away. He was raping him. My baby was being raped by his own uncle in our home. His aunt was standing next to them, watching, laughing. I couldn't get up. No more than twenty minutes later he laid off him. I watched unwilling as he tried to shoot him. The gun jammed. He threw it down angrily and pulled out a knife. Drake had stopped moving. HE looked at me;he looked right into my eyes. He smiled. He slit Drake's throat. As they walked out they hit me with the gun a few times until I pretended to pass out. After that, they walked out calmly. When they were gone I grabbed the phone and ran to Drake. He wasn't moving at all. When the police got there they took us both to the hospital, but it was too late. The police quickly caught up with them. They were sentenced to death. It doesnt comfort me as it should to know that. Drake. Such a sweet, intelligent child... all he had been through... I found his journal yesterday. He told me he had kept one when he lived with his aunt and uncle, to pass time mostly. He said they found it once and burned it, then beat him for it. I suggested he continue writing, even if only once a week. He did. It's hard to read. I cry even thinking about him, to read his personal thoughts in his own handwriting is almost unbearable, but I force myself to. I read the last page of it this morning. I wanted to close it. I had read all of it and just wanted to close it and hold it close. I couldn't. I still can't. I've read the last page over and over. If only I wouldn't have opened the door.
Drake, honey, baby, son, I will always hold you close. I can't sleep at night, or eat or work without thinking of you and hoping with all my heart that you are no longer in pain and will rest easy forever. I love you Drake. Shortly enough baby, I will join you.