I watched the dark clouds roll by outside my bedroom window and breathed out a small sigh. It looked like a thunderstorm was approaching.

Down below, I could hear my mom shouting out to my dad who was working as usual, in his shed.

"Jeffery, help me with these clothes!" My mom yelled, banging her hand against the closed, wooden door of the shed as she ran past to get to the washing line.

I watched quietly as my mom pulled the clothes off the washing line and put them in the basket, a couple of minutes later, my dad appeared. He was proudly holding out my radio, the one that had broken a few weeks ago. I guess he had managed to fix it after all. Just then, drops of rain began to pour down and my dad looked up at the sky, his eyes flitted towards my bedroom window and he saw me. A grin broke out across his face as he proudly held my radio up over his head.

And that's when it happened.

I didn't even have the chance to blink.

It was such a still, calm day. The morning had started out with sunshine.

The day ended with rain and death.

Not a moment after I saw my dad stand outside his workshop, our shed, with my mom busily scurrying around behind him at the washing line, was I greeted with a blind flashing light and a loud boom of thunder.

I remember shrieking in shock and falling back from my window. I hit my head against the desk near my bedroom and slipped into unconsciousness.

That's my last memory of me and my parents all together at our family house.

After the storm, everything changed.