Cruel World
I grew up on the streets for a lot of my life, being a witness to every week’s new crime scene. At first it seemed horrifying, but as these crimes continued to happen, it became more normal and I knew to stay out of their way. A 12 year old kid such as myself is not cut out to be in the streets with no home and a terrible paying “job” that barely affords you a candy bar. But somehow I continued on, cold and hungry and hoping that the angry skies wouldn’t drown me with snow or hail. Whenever the weather would allow me I would try to rest but my slumber would always be interrupted by the same nightmare: The day my parents died and I became homeless. I was 9 at the time and was just watching T.V in the bedroom I shared with my parents. This normal day was completely broken by what sounded like a loud thud of a human quickly falling down. My dad shouted from the living room:
”SON! Remember what I told you if something were to happen to us!”
With that I quickly went to the closet and pulled out a handgun my dad used to carry with him. I unlocked the gun from its heavy container and hid behind some furniture, ready to fire at a moments notice; and I did, 2 of the 6 gang members had been killed and I leaped through the window and ran as fast as I could knowing there was nothing I could do to save my dad from the rest of those gang members. I ended up running to the back of a fancy restaurant where a dumpster lay and everything is gray except for a neon sign that is always Flickering on and off rapidly.
3 Years I have spent in this small alley digging away at what I could’ve thrown away remains of pasta and other foods. I never thought anything would change, but when I heard of an orphanage opening up today a few blocks away I knew that I could finally open myself up to the world I had concealed myself from in an alley and a poor grocery shop. I caught sight of a man who was passing by my little alleyway and I decided for the first time: communicate.
I said to the man in the clearest voice I could manage:
“Is it true that there is an orphanage opening up close by?”
“Yes there is!” answered the man politely, proceeding to ask me: “Why do you ask? Do you plan on visiting?”
“Well….. I plan on introducing myself and hope that they will take me in as an orphan” “I’m sorry about what has happened to you, I wish the best of luck to you there and hopefully you will find a family for you”
“Thank you, goodbye” I managed to mumble out while avoiding any signs of choking in my voice. I then gathered a bit of food I could save and hid the handgun that had saved me 3 years ago. Once everything was gathered, I dragged myself trying my best to ignore the pain of my aching feet and growling stomach, but a few blocks away, there it was. I stepped up on the white marble steps and knocked on the door. But what I saw next completely caught me by surprise.
It was MY FATHER who opened the door! It took a while for us to register into our heads what we were seeing; we had been standing there just staring at each other in disbelief for almost a minute now until it was broken by a mixture of crying and relieved laughter and before I knew it, my father came up to hug me. I never thought to see my father ever again, but I couldn’t believe he was actually there in front of me. The second my dad let go of me, a million questions flood into my head awaiting an answer, but I started out by asking:
“How’d you get out of the house?! I thought those gang members killed you!” My father could only speak in stutters:
“T-T-They almost-t got me……… aft-t-ter they shot-t-t me, I p-played dead. And waited Unt-til they left to c-call an ambulance.” He spoke clearer now:
“After that I got myself back up and tried to run. Somehow the news of my recovery got to the gang members and now they are after m-!”
Before he could finish his sentence those gang members from 3 years ago showed up from nowhere and finished off my father and soon to follow: me. I could feel my palms getting sweaty and my heartbeat speed up as all sense of fear from a few seconds ago was lost and replaced with pure adrenaline, and I moved quickly before they could fire any more shots to find a nearby exit. I scrambled through the narrow hallway neatly organised with paintings of mountains and flower pots on wooden-carved desks. Before I could budge through the exit door, I felt a harsh pain swell up in my ankle, and I quickly dropped on the floor hitting my chin against the carpet. One of the gang members had managed to pull a bullet in my leg and he slowly crept up to me and whispered:
“No one escapes me alive”
I knew he was serious with those words and what followed was a destructive shot right through my jaw. Now I felt completely paralyzed and could only BARELY think. My eyes were fixed on the wall which seemed to be grinning at me evilly and an air vent that guzzled out an ominous purple and rather sad air. Not a lot I could do now, Just close my eyes, lower and slow my breathing and let……..
go………….
THE END
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