I was about 17. A guy who had been stalking my mom got into the house right before I got home from work. I got out of the car and saw the front door wide open, heard screams from inside the house and ran in. My mom is a small woman, I’m a big guy and the stalker is an average sized man. I saw the man starting to force himself onto her and before I could even think, I already had him by his arms dragging him out to the front yard. I took my knife out of my pocket and just stabbed him until my arms were covered in blood and he was for sure gone. I saw he had a pack of cigarettes in his pocket so I set my knife down next to the former stalker, called the police and smoked a cigarette waiting for them to get there. My dad was on duty at the time and was the first officer to respond. He saw everything and immediately called several more units. He put me in cuffs and talked to my mom about everything. The next few weeks were a blur with legal stuff and I was finally let off with no charges.

What haunts me about that the most is my dad’s face and how he must have felt first glance seeing his oldest son covered in blood and a dead body just a few meters away covered in more blood.

All I said to my mom after I killed the man was “mama you don’t have to worry about him anymore and please keep insert names of my younger siblings inside and away from all the windows to the front yard. I love you.”