The deafening sirens rapidly follow behind me. I'm out of breath, my black, burnt lungs unable to produce me enough oxygen to carry on. Without thought, I make a right proceeding forward, unaware that police cars circled around me. I had surrendered. The policemen all stood with their guns in their hand, pointing their loaded weapon at me.
"Hands up where I can see them." An old, bald-headed officer demanded. Without hesitation, I did what I was constructed to do.
You see, everyone always told me I was trouble from a young age. But we're all troubled in a world of trouble. Trouble has a way of gripping me by the shoulders and steering me into a destructive path, not that I'm complaining. I genuinely enjoy the feeling of danger, it makes me feel so alive. And you can't control what makes you feel alive. I am trouble. I am Raven.
YOU ARE READING
The Four of Us
Teen FictionI let you become my happiness and that's where I went wrong.
