I walked into that kitchen and my heart shattered into a thousand pieces.
Marcus was huddled in the corner, still wearing his yellow pajamas. His face was red and streaked with tears and snot. His small body was shaking so hard his teeth were chattering. And he was screaming the same words over and over:
The firefighters stood behind me, helpless. These brave men who save lives every day couldn’t save this little boy from his own guilt.
I walked over slowly. Didn’t rush. Didn’t make sudden movements. Just walked over and sat down on the kitchen floor about three feet away from Marcus.
He looked at me with those destroyed eyes. Saw my leather vest. My tattoos. My size. And for a moment, he stopped screaming. Just stared at me like I was some kind of monster.
“Hey buddy,” I said quietly. “My name is Danny. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just going to sit here with you, okay?”
“I killed her,” Marcus whispered. “Mommy told me to go outside and I did and now she’s dead and it’s my fault.”
“Can I tell you something, Marcus?” He didn’t answer. Just kept shaking.Continue reading…
