This morning, I noticed that I was out of milk. So I decided to go and get some, to avoid a repeated day of desolation. I found myself at an out of town gas station, although being in my bed sounded much more peaceful. I went all the way out of town for milk because of the infuriating press. They are outside of my home, just waiting for me to come outside so they could humiliate me more than I already was. The press are not sensitive to anyone’s feelings. When I got in my car, the press would slap my car and block my way out of the drive. I drove all the way to Purmort, New Hampshire from Sterling because the news van followed me for a few miles on the highway. It made me feel famous, but then reality sunk in and it is only because my son is …show more content…
I was pleased with how I handled the press this morning. I am a calm person. I tried to pretend like I did not see them. At the gas station in New Hampshire, I was about to pay for the milk when I notice a jar on the counter. The jar read, “Memorial Fund for the Victims of Sterling High.” All I could do is stare at the jar in astonishment. Then the cashier said, “ It’s tragic isn't it?” It is tragic, but what is even more tragic is that the murderer is my son, I had thought in my head. My heart started to pound aggressively in my chest. The cashier also said, “ You have to wonder about the parents, I mean how could they have not known?” I just wondered if there could be a worse child than Peter, or a worse mother than me. I just grabbed all of the spare coins and paper bills in my purse and shoved them into the can. Then I just left the store with the milk still inside. Everything that I did to forget about Peter failed. I had to go out of town just to avoid the press. Then, I finally got to a town that I had thought no one knew about the shooting, but people did. I just wish that people would just leave me alone. I was not the shooter, but people were acting as if I