OMG what a week...
So something crazy went down this past week. Last Sat. night/ Sun. morning around 1:30 am I was on the computer, being nosy on Facebook, reading my favorite author, Sarah Dessen's blog, and texting my lil when all of a sudden I got a very strange text message. I though it was my lil sis Alicia sending me another text about her life in Phoenix, we were just making idle chatter, but when I looked it was a picture message. It was a photo of my youngest sister. It was a very dark photo, I couldn't tell where she was, or if it was really her at first, but the longer I looked at it, the more alarmed I became. She was looking at the camera, but she wasn't smiling. It seemed like she was kneeling on the ground, and her face looked very scared, and she was squinting in the flash of the camera phone. Below the picture was a message "This could have been avoided." I didn't recognize the phone number. I was a little nervous and kinda freaked out so I dialed the number. I dialed it wrong and received another text message from the same number, "Awake yet?" was all it said. Now I was scared. I dialed the number again, correctly this time and a man's voice answered, "Hello?"
"Who is this?" I asked.
"This is Mark," he answered.
My stomach dropped and my heart jumped up into my throat. Mark was my ex-boy friend from high school, we had dated for about a year when I was 15. He had broken up with me to date another girl he had met over the summer. After the break up he began stalking me, my MySpace, LiveJournal and Facebook. He would call me all the time, so I changed my number, I refused to speak with him or have any type of contact with him. About a year later he somehow got my number and threatened to commit suicide if I didn't speak to him. Obviously I didn't. I texted him that he was crazy and that he needed serious help. He apologized later and asked me to not tell his parents. I told him I wouldn't. About a year later, he contacted me again. I again had a different number because I had switched cell phone providers. He called me multiple times, threatening to commit suicide. I spoke to him then, asked him why he would do such a thing. Eventually he calmed down agreed with me that he had a lot to live for. I thought the matter was over with.
Two years later he sent me a Facebook message, apologizing for his insane behavior wondering if we could be friends. I sent a polite response and figured that would be the end of it. It wasn't. He kept messaging me, asking to see me. I didn't bother with a reply, I didn't want to hurt his feelings and thought that maybe if I just ignored him he would get busy with other things and forget about me. Well, now here he was, and he had my sister. Naturally I went ballistic. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH MY SISTER? WHY DID YOU SEND ME A PICTURE OF HER? WHERE ARE YOU?"
"I'm at your house," he replied.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING AT MY HOUSE? WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY SISTER?"
Then he said something that I couldn't discern, it sounded like "I don't wanna die" or maybe it was "I want to die" considering what happened next. After that there was silence. I screamed his name into the phone several times but I heard nothing but background noise.
I gave up and dialed my mom's number. No answer. I dialed again, still no answer. I dialed several more times trying to rationalize it. My mother was famous for not answering her phone she was probably just asleep, not dead in a ditch somewhere.
I ran to the living room and woke up my boyfriend who was sleeping on the couch. I tried to explain what had happened but I was yelling so loudly, my voice was so high pitched and panicky that he couldn't make any sense of it. He kept telling me to calm down. I went back into the bedroom and tried calling my other sister, no answer. So I tried my youngest sister's, the one who had been in the photo, cell number. She answered and I almost burst into tears. She said that he had broken into the house, that he had cut the power and that she was outside with the police. I asked to speak to the officer. I told him exactly who it was and everything I knew about the intruder. I told him we had dated when I was 15. "How old are you now?" he asked.
"23!" I answered.
After the officer took all the information I could give him about Mark, and my information he put me back on the phone with my sister. She said that my mother had been taken to the hospital from a cut she had gotten trying to break a window to get back into the house when Mark had locked her out.
It didn't make a lot of sense to me but my sister said she had to speak to the police and she would call me back when she was done. She assured me she was unharmed and that mom was okay, so I hung up and told my boyfriend what I knew. He asked me if I wanted to go to Phoenix, I said yes and we were on our way in 15 minutes.
I flew at 120 mph down the freeway, sent a prayer up to my tata that we just needed to get there. No cops, no other cars. We were in Phoenix in 2 hours flat. We went straight to Mesa General Hospital, where I saw my mom was okay but covered in blood.
That was when I got the full story.
At about 1:00 am the power in my mom's house went out, my little sister went to my mother and woke her up, "Mom, the power's out." My mom's house had just had a new air conditioner installed so she thought that the unit had tripped the breakers, so she and my sister went outside to the power box. That was when they saw him step out from around the corner of the house. They didn't recognize him, my mom thought he was a random burglar or rapist.
"We're going into the house," he said.
"No you're not," my mom replied and told my sister to go back inside and call the police.
"I wouldn't do that," he said "I have a gun"
"Well then you'll have to shoot me cuz you're not getting into my house!"
He moved towards her and my mom fought him, that was when he tased her. My mom described it as a burning sensation that runs all through your body, but she didn't go down and she kept fighting him. He tased he a second time and that was when my mom went down. But she didn't pass out. Get up, she thought, get up he's going into your house with your daughter. After he pushed his way past my mom he went into the house and locked the door behind him. He grabbed my sister, who was on the phone with 911, and dragged her to the front bedroom and locked the door. She was screaming and fighting him, but he overpowered her. My mom meanwhile was screaming her head off outside, she went around to the front of the house and smashed though the front window to get back in. One neighbor came up and she told him to guard the front in case the intruder came back out that way, she went around to the back and was about to enter when the police showed up.
In the bedroom, Mark demanded my phone number, my sister refused. The number was in her phone and she was still on with 911. That was when he took out the gun. He put it to his own head and threatened to shoot himself if she didn't give him my phone number. She said nothing, so he took out a pocket knife and put it on the bed beside her, "Do you feel safer?" he asked.
She gave him the phone and he got my number. He gave her back the phone, took her picture and sent it to me. "Can I go now?" she asked.
"Yes," he said, "this will all be over soon."
She grabbed our dog, who had done her best to fight him off but had been kicked aside, and ran out the door.
My mother was in hysterics outside with the police officers who had called in SWAT when my sister came out. The paramedics were there, insisting my mom needed to go to the hospital, but she didn't want to leave my sister and she didn't have a cell phone. She agreed to go after it was arranged for my sister to go to a neighbor's house to wait for my aunt to pick her up.
The probe from the second tase was still in my mom at the hospital, and it was there that a police officer informed us that Mark was no longer with us.
"He committed suicide?" my mother asked.
"Yes." he replied, his radio echoing in the quiet hospital.
"Where?"
"In the house, in the room."
"In my HOUSE??"
"Yes."
"Were there negotiations?" I asked. "Did you try to talk him down?"
"Yes. We tried for about an hour."
"His poor parents," I said. I remember that Mark had always been very close with his mother. "Oh, our poor house."
It turns out my mother had a severely broken arm, probably from the fall after her second tase. The surgeon would be called in to operate on her later in the morning.
So, my boyfriend and I stayed in Phoenix for the next three days, helping my mother as much as we could. My sister had only suffered some scraped and bruises, but I was more concerned for her psyche. She seemed okay though, just really tired, as she slept for most of the next couple of days.
Ben and I came home the following Thursday, exhausted, but satisfied that everyone would be okay. I got called in for an interview at a job in Scottsdale, and was offered a job the following day. Ben got his old job back at Cafe Rio, so we are really all set for our new life in Phoenix.
For me, there is still a large part of me that can't believe that Mark is dead. I have so many fond memories of him, he was my first serious boyfriend. My first for a lot of things. We went to prom and winter formal together, we had a lot of fun in marching band and his family was always so nice to me. Part of me is so sad at his family's loss, another part is upset that he's not around anymore for me to take my anger out on him. I am still in disbelief that he could do this to me, to my family. We really did love each other for a time, and I suppose he just couldn't let go of that. I haven't really processed his death yet, as I've been so concerned with my own family, and myself as I'm now 16 weeks along (conceited I know). I did see the room and there is a lot of blood. I read his obit online but I don't know if I believe it yet. Only time will tell I guess. Maybe once I stop being so mad about what he did I'll be able to process his passing.
Anyways this is a very depressing entry but I feel better putting it out there. Going to bed now, another long day tomorrow :)
Here is the video of Fox 10 News' story about it:
"Who is this?" I asked.
"This is Mark," he answered.
My stomach dropped and my heart jumped up into my throat. Mark was my ex-boy friend from high school, we had dated for about a year when I was 15. He had broken up with me to date another girl he had met over the summer. After the break up he began stalking me, my MySpace, LiveJournal and Facebook. He would call me all the time, so I changed my number, I refused to speak with him or have any type of contact with him. About a year later he somehow got my number and threatened to commit suicide if I didn't speak to him. Obviously I didn't. I texted him that he was crazy and that he needed serious help. He apologized later and asked me to not tell his parents. I told him I wouldn't. About a year later, he contacted me again. I again had a different number because I had switched cell phone providers. He called me multiple times, threatening to commit suicide. I spoke to him then, asked him why he would do such a thing. Eventually he calmed down agreed with me that he had a lot to live for. I thought the matter was over with.
Two years later he sent me a Facebook message, apologizing for his insane behavior wondering if we could be friends. I sent a polite response and figured that would be the end of it. It wasn't. He kept messaging me, asking to see me. I didn't bother with a reply, I didn't want to hurt his feelings and thought that maybe if I just ignored him he would get busy with other things and forget about me. Well, now here he was, and he had my sister. Naturally I went ballistic. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH MY SISTER? WHY DID YOU SEND ME A PICTURE OF HER? WHERE ARE YOU?"
"I'm at your house," he replied.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING AT MY HOUSE? WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY SISTER?"
Then he said something that I couldn't discern, it sounded like "I don't wanna die" or maybe it was "I want to die" considering what happened next. After that there was silence. I screamed his name into the phone several times but I heard nothing but background noise.
I gave up and dialed my mom's number. No answer. I dialed again, still no answer. I dialed several more times trying to rationalize it. My mother was famous for not answering her phone she was probably just asleep, not dead in a ditch somewhere.
I ran to the living room and woke up my boyfriend who was sleeping on the couch. I tried to explain what had happened but I was yelling so loudly, my voice was so high pitched and panicky that he couldn't make any sense of it. He kept telling me to calm down. I went back into the bedroom and tried calling my other sister, no answer. So I tried my youngest sister's, the one who had been in the photo, cell number. She answered and I almost burst into tears. She said that he had broken into the house, that he had cut the power and that she was outside with the police. I asked to speak to the officer. I told him exactly who it was and everything I knew about the intruder. I told him we had dated when I was 15. "How old are you now?" he asked.
"23!" I answered.
After the officer took all the information I could give him about Mark, and my information he put me back on the phone with my sister. She said that my mother had been taken to the hospital from a cut she had gotten trying to break a window to get back into the house when Mark had locked her out.
It didn't make a lot of sense to me but my sister said she had to speak to the police and she would call me back when she was done. She assured me she was unharmed and that mom was okay, so I hung up and told my boyfriend what I knew. He asked me if I wanted to go to Phoenix, I said yes and we were on our way in 15 minutes.
I flew at 120 mph down the freeway, sent a prayer up to my tata that we just needed to get there. No cops, no other cars. We were in Phoenix in 2 hours flat. We went straight to Mesa General Hospital, where I saw my mom was okay but covered in blood.
That was when I got the full story.
At about 1:00 am the power in my mom's house went out, my little sister went to my mother and woke her up, "Mom, the power's out." My mom's house had just had a new air conditioner installed so she thought that the unit had tripped the breakers, so she and my sister went outside to the power box. That was when they saw him step out from around the corner of the house. They didn't recognize him, my mom thought he was a random burglar or rapist.
"We're going into the house," he said.
"No you're not," my mom replied and told my sister to go back inside and call the police.
"I wouldn't do that," he said "I have a gun"
"Well then you'll have to shoot me cuz you're not getting into my house!"
He moved towards her and my mom fought him, that was when he tased her. My mom described it as a burning sensation that runs all through your body, but she didn't go down and she kept fighting him. He tased he a second time and that was when my mom went down. But she didn't pass out. Get up, she thought, get up he's going into your house with your daughter. After he pushed his way past my mom he went into the house and locked the door behind him. He grabbed my sister, who was on the phone with 911, and dragged her to the front bedroom and locked the door. She was screaming and fighting him, but he overpowered her. My mom meanwhile was screaming her head off outside, she went around to the front of the house and smashed though the front window to get back in. One neighbor came up and she told him to guard the front in case the intruder came back out that way, she went around to the back and was about to enter when the police showed up.
In the bedroom, Mark demanded my phone number, my sister refused. The number was in her phone and she was still on with 911. That was when he took out the gun. He put it to his own head and threatened to shoot himself if she didn't give him my phone number. She said nothing, so he took out a pocket knife and put it on the bed beside her, "Do you feel safer?" he asked.
She gave him the phone and he got my number. He gave her back the phone, took her picture and sent it to me. "Can I go now?" she asked.
"Yes," he said, "this will all be over soon."
She grabbed our dog, who had done her best to fight him off but had been kicked aside, and ran out the door.
My mother was in hysterics outside with the police officers who had called in SWAT when my sister came out. The paramedics were there, insisting my mom needed to go to the hospital, but she didn't want to leave my sister and she didn't have a cell phone. She agreed to go after it was arranged for my sister to go to a neighbor's house to wait for my aunt to pick her up.
The probe from the second tase was still in my mom at the hospital, and it was there that a police officer informed us that Mark was no longer with us.
"He committed suicide?" my mother asked.
"Yes." he replied, his radio echoing in the quiet hospital.
"Where?"
"In the house, in the room."
"In my HOUSE??"
"Yes."
"Were there negotiations?" I asked. "Did you try to talk him down?"
"Yes. We tried for about an hour."
"His poor parents," I said. I remember that Mark had always been very close with his mother. "Oh, our poor house."
It turns out my mother had a severely broken arm, probably from the fall after her second tase. The surgeon would be called in to operate on her later in the morning.
So, my boyfriend and I stayed in Phoenix for the next three days, helping my mother as much as we could. My sister had only suffered some scraped and bruises, but I was more concerned for her psyche. She seemed okay though, just really tired, as she slept for most of the next couple of days.
Ben and I came home the following Thursday, exhausted, but satisfied that everyone would be okay. I got called in for an interview at a job in Scottsdale, and was offered a job the following day. Ben got his old job back at Cafe Rio, so we are really all set for our new life in Phoenix.
For me, there is still a large part of me that can't believe that Mark is dead. I have so many fond memories of him, he was my first serious boyfriend. My first for a lot of things. We went to prom and winter formal together, we had a lot of fun in marching band and his family was always so nice to me. Part of me is so sad at his family's loss, another part is upset that he's not around anymore for me to take my anger out on him. I am still in disbelief that he could do this to me, to my family. We really did love each other for a time, and I suppose he just couldn't let go of that. I haven't really processed his death yet, as I've been so concerned with my own family, and myself as I'm now 16 weeks along (conceited I know). I did see the room and there is a lot of blood. I read his obit online but I don't know if I believe it yet. Only time will tell I guess. Maybe once I stop being so mad about what he did I'll be able to process his passing.
Anyways this is a very depressing entry but I feel better putting it out there. Going to bed now, another long day tomorrow :)
Here is the video of Fox 10 News' story about it: