The following is my account of March 10 and March 11, 2005 – the night that everything changed. Oftentimes on television and in music the world coming to a stop sounds like the screeching of a car slamming on the brakes. So much so that the term “a screeching halt” is in our lexicon and used in day-to-day life. I can’t speak for everyone but I can tell you what it sounded like when my world came to an abrupt standstill. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t earth shaking. It was just fast. It was the blood pumping in my ears and the fear of the unknown racing through my heart. It was the feeling of a caged animal trying to lash out while being transported against its will. When I got off the bus in El Jebel, Colorado at approximately 11:30 pm I had no idea that my entire life was about to change in every way imaginable. When I saw my mother’s Honda CR-V in the parking lot I just thought it an odd coincidence, not unlike running into an ex right after a break up and seeing them with another person. It’s not something one ever really enjoys but you shrug it off to the best of your ability and then obsess about it later until you can vent about it to a friend. Looking back at it I think I was the one who walked up to my mom and said “hi.” In the years since I’ve wondered if my mom even saw me get off that bus; if I could have walked past her car in the dark of night unnoticed and how differently my life may have panned out. However that isn’t what happened. I walked up and said hi. When my mom offered me a ride home, a warm shower, clean clothes and a soft bed, I didn’t say no. Truth be told what sealed the deal was when my mom mentioned my cats. I missed them. I wanted to see them so I hopped in her car. And thus the ball began to roll. I walked into the house I had spent much of my adolescence in and it seemed strangely alien to me. I remember walking through the house and giving everything a once over. Almost like a patrol. However I also felt like I was walking through a museum of memories: “here’s the spot I broke my arm in the 8th grade while learning frontside boardslides in the backyard;” “here’s the spot my mother broke a wooden spoon over me;” “here’s the spot I seriously considered swallowing a bottle of pills;” “here’s the spot I masturbated feverishly after finding my first Hustler magazine” It was all there. Little had changed. I guess it was just me that was absent. Finally I came across the jewel of my mother’s house: my cats. Patches and Blue were the best friends I could have ever had. They were the perfect beings, selfless and caring. In all the years of teenage angst, abuse, fights, you name it, they were there. I often referred to them as my guardian angels. They seemed to have a sense about the state of the household and always knew the perfect time to come up to me. They brought a sense of calm to life. My focus on all the shitty things would fade away and in their place would be my focus on their two perfect faces. I doted on my cats for a little while and then decided to jump in the shower. I had long hair that I had recently tried (and failed) to cut myself and in my days on end of spending my nights drinking with whoever would take me into their home or their bed, I hadn’t showered in a bit and for the first time in a while actually looked forward to rinsing off. I stayed in for quite some time, basking in the steam of the hot water. I’m not really sure how much time passed. I got out of the shower and grabbed a towel to dry off. I went into my room and threw on some pajama  bottoms and a Sex Pistols t-shirt I had ripped the sleeves off of. My cats were in my bed and I sat down next to them. My mom entered the room. There was no fight in her tonight. She just stood at the doorway and simply said “They’ve missed you.” It was an odd moment. For the first time in a while I had no snarky remark for her. No contempt, nor feeling of anger for past deeds. I just nodded my head and wondered in amazement why there was a lump in my throat. For so long I had convinced myself that emotion was weakness. I had done so much in two years to make myself into this hardened model of a human. Yet my eyes were now burning with moisture at a simple moment between a boy, his cats and his mother. Just then there was a knock at the door. I got up. It had to be around midnight. My mother didn’t say anything, she just stood to one side of the doorway. I walked past her and saw my father standing outside the sliding glass door that lead to my mother’s backyard. To truly understand how bizarre this all was, one must realize that my parents both had restraining orders against each other. They used them against each other in a sadistic game of mutually assured destruction. To take things another step further, I was still buzzing on the Oxy’s I had taken earlier. As I walked to the sheet of glass standing in the way between my father and myself a plethora of circumstances flashed through my mind. A death in the family seemed the most logical. I figured my grandmother must have died. My dad being the little mama’s boy that he was, it wouldn’t have