The wrong side of things
Just something Iīm spilling out of my brain. Comments are welcome.
The Wrong Side of Things.
I was there, back against the wall, legs sprawled on the floor, arms are free but they are not good for much at this time. My breathing is ragged... my heart is beating faster, and faster... my eyes are fixed upon something a little above my line of sight.
He is aiming a gun at my head, not an inch away, I have my eyes fixed upon the mouth of the pistolīs cannon, itīs black emptyness, itīs simplicity... I am looking at the wrong side of a pistolīs cannon, and I do not like it. Death is waiting at the end, waiting to see if I will run away with her. But I canīt run away, I wonīt run away.
Iīm lying in one of my schoolīs bathrooms, Iīm on junior high, and Iīm lying on the floor, blood is trickling down my mouth but my concentration is diverted upon the void that is the pistolīs cannon.
I didnīt do anything wrong.... I did not harm nobody, I am only thirteen years old dammit, and here I am about to die, at the hands and bullet of a fourteen year old who has a messiah complex and the money (and pistol) of his father to prove it.
I saw him stealing an 11 year old with his gang of croonies today, I wasnt down with that, never was, never will. I fought him, I fought him and his two guards.
I got the beating of a lifetime...
I was dragged to one of the bathrooms on the first floor... where I was hit further by him while his two lackeys grabbed my arms.... when he hit me square on the mouth I almost lost conciousness, I was dropped to the ground by the "muscles". Then I heard him step closer, I heard something being taken out of somewhere.... I heard a gun being lock and loaded. Then I felt itīs coolness against my temple.
"Any last words punk?" he asked.
My sight was transfixed upon the cannon.
I ran away once.
"Never again" I said to myself after that event.
I will not run again.
"Fire away coward." I said to him.
Light and darkness engulfed me.
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