That night when David came in my room, eyes bloodshot, filled with tears, was the day my life changed forever. He sat me down to tell me that my mother had been killed in a head-on collision by a drunk driver while on her way home from the night shift at the hospital. The driver, a 23 year old male, had a blood alcohol concentration of 0.162. That is almost double the legal limit. I’m still in shock that he would even dare to drive a motor vehicle, but that goes to show how much people care these days. I remember in that exact moment what it felt like to be told that my mother, my best friend, had been killed. It’s a feeling I will never forget, as if my heart was being ripped from my chest, and then thrown to the grown, being shattered into a million pieces. But what has damaged me even more since my mother passed away is seeing how unaffected my selfish father is. It breaks my heart to see that he has already moved on from my mother, and is already engaged not even a year after she passed away. How does that make sense? How could you be head over heels one minute and moving on the next?

“Beatrice!!” I groggily rose my head from my pillow as my father’s fiance, Nicki, turned the doorknob and entered my room. “Wake up and get ready for school,” she said in a sharp, vicious tone. She then turned back around and shut the door behind her as she exited. I never understood why she thought it was necessary to treat me the way she did. When I say I did nothing to this woman, I honest to God mean it. Never once have I given her a reason not to like me, yet she treats me as if I were garbage sitting outside on the curb. As much as I wanted to stay in bed and just cry all day, I reminded myself that my mother would want me to get my butt up and take on the day, just like the determined person I am. Or once was. But then I remember that if I want UCLA’s Presidential Scholarship, I don’t have any other choice than to get up and go to school. So I finally decided to roll out of bed and begin getting ready for the day. As I was brushing my teeth and looking at myself in the mirror, I couldn’t help but notice the resemblance between my mother and I. Long, dark brown hair, crystal blue eyes, narrow, sculpted face. I wish she could be here today to see our similarities, and to continue motivating me to be a good student.

Once I was finished getting ready, I grabbed my jacket, threw on my backpack, and stumbled my way down the steps. I feel as if I am completely drained of all energy and am in desperate need of something to eat in order to wake me up a tad. As I walked through the threshold of our kitchen, I couldn’t help but notice that my father, Nicki, and their son, Toby were all gathered around the kitchen table with a full spread of breakfast items. Pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, and fruit salad. Weird how nobody cared to invite me to “family breakfast.” But to be honest, I wouldn’t have joined them anyway, so instead, I grabbed a granola bar and to-go coffee. Now I just have to wait for Nicki to finish up so I can get a ride from her to school. Rather than waiting inside around my father and his fiance, I decided to walk out the door in our laundry room that lead out to our garage. I shut the door behind me, and took a seat on the concrete steps that lead up to the door. I put my headphones in my ears and took a deep breathe, inhaling the crisp morning air, enjoying the beautiful weather that would later turn into sweltering heat. After sitting there for awhile, I felt as if there were another presence standing behind me, and turned to see my little brother, Toby waiting for me to move out of the way so he could make it down the steps. “Good morning Tobster. How was breakfast?”

“It was good sissy, I ate some scrambled eggs. Scrambled eggs are my favorite. I also had a pancake and a piece of bacon. My belly is really full,” he said as he tossed his Paw Patrol backpack onto the garage floor. He picked up his blue razor scooter and began riding around, up and down the driveway, and into the street.

“Toby, make sure you’re being careful, okay buddy? I have to run back inside really quick to grab something from my room. Make sure you look out for cars in the street.”

“Okay sissy, I will be careful,” he said back. I ran back inside quickly, running up to my room to grab my psychology textbook. Knowing that I was leaving my little brother unattended outside made me feel uneasy, but I knew he would be okay for a few minutes. I made my way back down the steps for the second time and ran out the garage door. It took me a moment to realize that when I got back outside, my little brother’s scooter way laying in the middle of the street. The first thing I thought was, “maybe he decided to go back inside,” so I honestly didn’t think anything of it. “Toby?!” I yelled, hoping for a response. I got nothing. “Toby, buddy, where are you? It’s almost time to go to school. It’s time to come inside.” At this moment, when I still got no response and didn’t see my brother anywhere in sight, I began to panic. I opened the door back up and yelled inside to my father. “Dad, is Toby in there? Did he come back inside?”

“No Bea, he didn’t. He was outside with you, riding his scooter.” My heart dropped to my stomach as I heard these words leave my father's mouth. If my little brother wasn’t outside with me, and not inside with him, where could he be?

“TOBY!! This is your last chance to come inside, RIGHT NOW!!” I screamed on the top of my lungs. There was still no response. I began to cry and panic as I realized that my brother was missing. He had to of been kidnapped. “Dad, call the police. Toby is nowhere to be found. I think he has been kidnapped.”

“Beatrice, what the hell do you mean he has been kidnapped. He was JUST outside with you riding his scooter.”

“Dad, I know this. But I came back inside for literally a minute to grab my textbook, and when I came back outside I couldn’t find him anywhere.” I saw the realization hit my father, that his son has been kidnapped. He pulled out his cell phone in a hurry, dialed 911, and told the police,

“Yes, I would like to report a missing child. His name is Toby Cunning, he is 6 years old, and has light brown hair and blue eyes. He was last seen wearing light wash jeans and a red t-shirt. He was taken from our front yard.”

Hearing these words leave my father's mouth was so surreal to me. How could I let this happen to my little brother, the only person I care about other than my mother? From this moment on, my life is never going to be the same… Not that it ever was before. As I stood there in shock, I could hear the police sirens imminent in the distance. What on Earth are we supposed to do now? I go over an action plan of what could be done next, because my little brother needed to be brought home to his family. He is the only thing keeping this family together, because, it sure as heck isn’t me. If it weren’t for Toby, my father and Nicki would have kicked me out onto the streets by now. It’s almost as if Toby brings out the good in them. Nicki came running outside, tears streaming down her face. She looked at my right as she exited our kitchen into the garage.

“YOU!!!” She said pointing at me, running up into my face. “How the HELL could you let this happen to Toby? How dare you Beatrice. This is YOUR fault!!!” She screamed at the top of her lungs. My heart sank as I realized… Nicki is completely right. This is my fault. I let Toby get scooped up, right out of our front yard. How COULD I let this happen? As guilt builds up inside of me, I finally decide to act on the problematic situation. If I caused the issue, then I must be the one to solve it. I ran inside, grabbed the keys to my father’s 2017 Audi S8 Plus, and I threw myself into the front seat, starting the engine.

“Beatrice, what do you think you’re doing?” My father asked in an insulted tone.

“If you and Nicki are going to sit here and blame me for Toby being kidnapped, then I’m not going to just stand around and wait for the police to do NOTHING for us. Have you ever seen an episode of 48 hours? I'm going to find my little brother.” I slammed the door to his car, put it in reverse, and backed down the driveway faster than I should have.

As I sped down highway 72, I go over a list of people it could have been that kidnapped my little brother. I always had a thought in the back of my head that if anything bad ever happened to our family, that it could always be my mother’s stalker. He hadn’t bothered our family since my mother’s passing, but before then, my mom and dad would catch him all the time. Attempting to break into our house, staring into our windows, following us on a normal Saturday afternoon to the grocery store. It was always something and a sick, twisted feeling in my stomach is telling me that this man has something to do with my brother’s abduction. I remembered where this man lived, since the police told us all of his personal information, so I made my way to his house about 30 minutes away from my own. Going 80 miles per hour, I pulled down the street his house was located on and came to a sudden stop as I neared the driveway. I threw the car into park, took the keys out of the ignition, and sprinted up to the front door. There were two cars in the driveway, so I knew that someone had to be home, but it was quite odd to me that nobody answered the door. Instead of knocking again or waiting for someone to come to the door, I tried to let myself in, and miraculously discovered that the door was unlocked. As I made my way through the house, I quietly whispered “Toby?,” so nobody could hear me. From a distance, I could hear the quiet sobs of a little boy, and I knew that it had to be my little brother. “TOBY?!?!” I raised my voice, lounder, so he was able to hear me.

“Bea?” I heard the muffled response come from behind the door I was standing in front of.

“I’m coming buddy. I’m going to get you out of here.” I turned the door knob to find my little brother locked inside of a dog crate. I unlocked the door and grabbed him, embracing him in a tight hug. I never wanted to let go, and I continued to thank God for allowing me to think of where my little brother could be. We cried together as I drove him back home and I continued to assure him that everything would be okay, although I wasn’t sure what would happen at this point. After getting home, my father and Nicki took me and my brother in to a big, long, group hug that was much needed in our family. It was almost as if this healed us completely. And I never heard the end of how thankful my father and Nicki were for me. However, I wouldn’t have been able to do any of this without my mother. She was looking over me the whole time, and guided me in the direction in which I traveled.