The Would Be Death of Josephine Taylor

I die. Or so I think.

         You would think stealing from the Cartel is a dumb idea. Unfortunately, my brain wasn't functioning properly when I thought to steal from the Mexican Cartel to make a couple bucks.

Why. Am. I. So. Fucking. Dumb.

I ran from one shipping crate to another. Further away from the mob chasing me. A spray of bullet's rang out behind me, this time not catching me in the leg. Again.

3 bullets had already caught me in my right arm, leg and side. Why did I think it would be a great idea to steal some drugs from this stash to sell to my druggie homeless friends?

I'm homeless, yes, but I didn't do drugs. I only sold them once in a while. To make money for myself and my other homeless best friend Wyatt.

"Where are you, bitch?" The Cartel guard called out, he had been chasing me for at least 10 minutes and in that time I already had 3 bullets strike me. Which hurt like hell.

I was going to die, was all I thought as I continued to run/hobble across the pavement at the river loading docks in Sacramento, California.

I didn't intend to steal from the cartel, but I accidentally did. The stash was supposed to be just a small one. Instead, it was a humongous one. Stupid Randall, why did I have to trust his stupid information?

I realized Randall had completely lied to me and is trying to get me killed when I saw the symbol on the packages of drugs. The Cartel's symbol was a Calavara, aka the day of the dead skull, with two machetes crossed beneath it. Of course when I got in the warehouse i saw the symbol on the packages that I had taken in the dark, panicked and ran. Instead of being a smart person and putting everything back.

Unfortunately, a couple guards saw me and ran after me. If I didn't die from the bullet wounds, Wyatt would definitely kill me for this.

My brown hair was plastered to my forehead as I ran, my grey hoodie and black track pants were soaked in blood, but that was okay, because I stole them from Walmart.

"COME OUT BITCH. WE JUST WANT OUR DRUGS BACK AND THEN YOU CAN BE ON YOUR WAY!" The guard screamed this time. I kept on running despite their yelling, drugs in my pockets and in my hands.

Sure enough I wasn't paying attention to where I was running and tripped. Which indefinitely tipped off the guards to where I was. "I suggest you stop running, you stole from us and will never stop being hunted until we get them back." The second guard spat.

"Good luck catching up." I yelled back, which was probably another dumb idea, but I'm a petty person.

Of course, that decision backfired and another spray of bullets ripped out behind me, this time 2 caught me in the thigh, and I couldn't help but to scream in agony. I dug my nails into my palm and clamped my mouth shut. Which caused me much more pain than I wanted. The pain from the bullets was blinding.

All of a sudden, while I was still running, someone struck the back of my head. I fell to the ground on my skinny stomach and skid across the pavement because of my momentum. I grunted and looked up where the guard stood. A metallic taste bloomed in my mouth, ah yes. Blood.

"Hey bitch. I caught up." He spat and decided to body search me, looking for the drugs. He helped himself to my boobs and ass at the same time.

Douche bag.

Eventually, he found them all. "And this." He levelled his gun to my gut, "Is for even trying to steal from the Cartel." He whispered and shot a single bullet into my gut. A guttural scream tore out of me as blood poured out of my stomach. I was still screaming in pain as he walked away whistling. I started to hack up some blood, I coughed it into my hands. Splayed on the pavement in the middle of the street, my brown hair drenched with sweat, some of it rolling into my green eyes. I could feel a splatter of blood across my cheeks, it spread with every dying cough.

I was going to die.

I Josephine Rosa Taylor, was going to die.

That was apparent now. At least I said good-bye to Wyatt, my best friend since grade 9, before I left our abandoned apartment. We had been side by side through grade 9 to 12, graduating together. I graduated with an average of 95. I didn't really try, though. Wyatt had an average of 96, said he tried just hard enough to beat me.

Douche.

I continued to cough up more blood, my vision going blurry.

My breathing became shallow, and it was getting harder to breath by the minute. "Bastard could have at least beat me unconscious, so I could die already." I breathed.

Darkness started to pool around my vision. For some annoying reason, it looked as if there was a rip in the surrounding air, that was being pulled at its seams. It looked as if stitches coming apart.

I must be hallucinating.

The darkness continued taking over my vision. It was clear now that I was hallucinating, due to the fact that there was a literal black silhouette of a woman standing in front of me, in front of the growing rip in the air.

She was talking now.

"Finally, a decent human." She laughed, "All it took was a measly human and his drugs to kill you." Human? I thought, my dying hallucination was actually making me laugh. I was giving up on breathing, letting death carry me to whatever place was next.

"Don't worry little human, you're not dying today."

That was the last thing I heard before I closed my eyes and let the darkness consume me.