Deja Vu

beginning of a short story I wrote in middle school

I stand on each tile of the cold floor against my naked feet. Slowly, I scan the blood, drop after drop. My heart sinks deeper after each step I take. My name is Leah Lonah, and I am eight years old. I am young, but I am old enough to know what is going on here. I try to silence my breathing, but I can’t. I hear scattering in mommas room and duck into the nearest closet. Footsteps pound at the wooden floor, and a familiar face appears in the crack of life visible from the closet. Sirens began to wail from outside. I become so distracted the man is gone. I slowly push the closet door open as it makes an awkward crackling noise. I hear a cry from the hallway and my heart free falls into my stomach. I can no longer breath and I find myself staring at momma. She's on the ground shaking. I feel helpless as I take her into my arms and hold her. 

“Momma please, stay awake!” my voice shakes as I beg her to stay with me. 

I feel helpless. Momma stops crying just as a herd of policemen sprint into the house. I didn't realize before, but I am sobbing. They grab momma from my arms and I close my eyes. 

I open my eyes. My name is Leah Lonah, and I am sixteen years old. It has been eight years since momma died in my arms. I have been waking up the same way for eight years now. My dreams have been taking me back, filling me with guilt. I still feel helpless.

Author's Note

This is only the first paragraph, what do you think of the story?