It was the early morning of May 2nd, 1992, and my brother, Keldin and I have just seen

our own mother brutally attack our aunt.

It's hard to even find the right words to express how frightened I felt.

I was scrambling in the dark, hardly able to keep myself from fainting in fear.

Keldin was at my side, stoically silent as he clutched his backpacto's chest and kept

my pace to escape Naomi's apartment.

Somehow we made it out and into the backyard to the housing project.

The quiet eerieness no longer comforting.

All around us we could hear the sound of gunfire, sirens and people shouting, going out to

the streets would be suicide.

You also heard helicopters in the sound of air raid sirens.

Military were making their way down the streets, likely to use extreme force against the protestors.

We needed to find shelter and to find help.

We took a few precarious steps forward as the sun came up over the housing project.

I got to the community center that we had visited only a few days ago and thought of Pastor

Kenneth.

He had the knowledge and skills to save our mother's soul.

Come on, we told my brother as we moved closer to the steps.

At first Keldin fought, wanting instead to go home, he refused to walk towards the community

center.

It's isn't going to help.

Nothing is, don't you get that?

...