Why? Why do some people hate each other just because of religion? Why do people kill each other just because of what they believe? That’s what I asked myself the day my mom was killed, 4 years ago.

I was scared, and I was crying. My sister Anna was only two and my brother Jake was only four. I think Jake knew someone killed her but I don’t think he knew why, and neither did I.

Being Jewish never occurred to me as something people hated. Perhaps I was too young or maybe I had just been shielded by my parents from most discrimination. But now, now I am older, now I have not been shielded, now I know the hatred that can occur.

At school, I wonder what people think of me. Sometimes I feel like an outcast, like a fish in a tree.

“Hey, Eliana!”

“Hi, Layla.”

“ What do you have, first period?”

“ Biology. You?”

“ Do you wanna walk to class together?”

“ Sure.”

My boyfriend, Carter, has always been supportive of me. Sometimes I wonder if I will ever face personal discrimination. Would my friends and boyfriend still support me?

My family never celebrates any Jewish holidays. We also never go to any services. My dad says it’s because we don’t have time or that we don’t have to celebrate anything. But I think it’s because he misses Mom and doesn’t want us to be discriminated against or even worse.
So when Hanukkah came around this year I wasn’t surprised when we did nothing. But we all got a gift. Even at school, Carter gave me a present; a bottle of perfume that smelled like flowers. I loved him.

The last day of Hanukkah came around; a day I will never forget.
As I stepped towards the school building a chill went up my spine. The school was eerie, and there seemed to be a haunting shadow covering the building.
When I stepped into the school everything was quiet and everybody seemed scared. I started walking faster to try and find Layla. I found her at her locker, but she didn’t say anything. Her face was pale and she had a grim expression. She told me to go home. I was flummoxed and was about to speak when she pointed down the hall to the blank wall. But today it wasn’t blank. I took a couple of steps closer to get a clear picture of what was on the wall. When I could see it I sank to the ground. My heart was beating so fast I thought it would explode. I felt like I had been hit by a car. On the wall was a swastika and next to it was my name crossed out in red spray paint.

When I got up my vision was blurry and tears were streaming down my face. I ran to my boyfriend Carter who was near Layla. He embraced me and held me tight but didn’t say anything. I ran home without permission. My dad was at work and my siblings were at school so I was all alone. I ran up to my room and hugged my pillow. How I wished my mom was still here. Still here to tell me everything would be ok. Still here to give me hugs and kisses. And still here to hush me to sleep while rubbing my back. My mom was brave. I don’t think I could ever be as brave as her.

At that moment I didn’t know what to do. I then remembered about the war in Israel. I wanted to help because what I just faced made me understand more. If my mom was alive I knew she would want to do the same. So I opened up my computer and emailed someone from a website that was made to help people in Israel.

At eleven o’clock I heard three loud knocks on my door and the words ”Police open up.” I quickly raced to the door and opened it. There standing right in front of me were three policemen. They told me how worried everyone had been because no one knew where I was. They also told me they hadn’t found the person who did…it. When I turned around to grab my phone to text my dad, one of the policemen noticed two red handprints on the back of my sweatshirt. The same color as the swastika and writing was on the wall at school.

The only person that I know of who had put their hands on my back was Carter when he hugged me. I quickly told them it wouldn’t, couldn’t be him. It was my boyfriend who supported me and wouldn’t commit a crime, especially not that one……..right?
They told me they believed me but still would investigate, and they also said I had permission to stay home.

As soon as they left I went to the kitchen and put my arms on the table using them to hold my head up. Even if it was Carter why would he do that, I thought he loved me. Then those unsettling questions flurried in my head again.
Why do some people hate each other just because of religion? Why…….

When my dad got home he squeezed me tight. He asked if I was ok. I said yes. Then he told me the devastating and heartbreaking news. I was frightened.
“The police found the culprit.”
I gulped.

“Carter”

Why would Carter do such a thing? I didn’t know the answer. The next day at school I was greeted by friendly faces. I saw Layla and we hugged for one minute but it felt like hours. She then told me Carter wasn’t at school and I nodded my head. I looked down the hall and I saw a blank white wall.

I answered one of my questions. No matter who the person is, no matter what their religion is, they will always face love, hate,