Gangalang Warfare {Version 1}

Gangalang Warfare

Gangs. That is what got me into this mess. I was only thirteen. I had my whole life ahead of me and they ruined everything...

Let's start at the beginning. I was born into a family that was falling apart. My dad, if I can even call him that, was always getting drunk. Whenever he got drunk, he became violent. He would always aim for my mum, Kathy. She took punch after punch just to protect me. After a while, he got bored and began to leave for long periods of time with no explanations. This went on for a full year before my mum confronted him. He got mad, shouted at her and then walked out on us. Out of our home and out of our lives, for good. Unfortunately, Kathy could not handle it. She became depressed and took up smoking and drinking. One day, it all got too much for her, I guess. They found her lifeless body in the bathtub. Both of her wrists were slit and the water was a deep crimson colour. Or so I was told. I was only six at the time. So, naturally, I wasn't told anything about it until I was older. Once they had found her corpse, I was taken away to a care home. All I remember being told was: "Mummy's gone to sleep for a long time". They sent me away to Birchwood Home, and honestly, it wasn't a bad place.

That was how my life started out. I suppose you could say I was doomed from the start, being a care kid and all. So let us flash-forward five years to the day I started secondary school and the beginning of my downfall. I was trusted to go to and from school on my own by bus. However, this was a mistake.

I approached the bus stop. It was at the end of our cul de sac and hardly anyone used it. Most bus drivers avoided coming here, as I found out. This is what made it the most perfect smoking spot. Cigarette butts lined the floor as well as needles and discards of various drugs. When I first arrived, it looked fairly normal. Five other children were waiting there too and I assumed they were getting a bus to school as well. However, I soon noticed that they were in fact smoking weed. Now, I could have walked away. I could have gone to the other bus stop. But I didn't. Inquisitiveness got the better of me, and, as they say, curiosity killed the cat. I couldn't help but stare as they took the drugs. One of them noticed me and asked if I wanted to try. It was at this moment that I had two choices. I could do the right thing and go to another stop to catch the bus to school, or I could take the spliff and join in. You can probably already guess which path I took. If I had been sensible, then maybe my story would be different. But I guess we will never know.

Nervously, I inhaled a large puff. I began coughing, but I enjoyed it. I took another puff. An hour passed and I was extremely late for school, getting high with people I had never even met before. But I didn't care. I was in pure ecstasy, taking puff after puff. Now the others were getting bored and decided to go to their hideout. They invited me to tag along. I was as high as a spaceship and readily agreed. It was in this moment that I had found my gang. Months passed. I skipped school nearly every day, rarely coming in. I lied to my care workers, saying everything was fine and worming my way out of trouble. My new gang, the Cobras, took good care of me. Well, not good care, but they still looked after me. We did loads of illegal things. It started off small; taking drugs and shoplifting. But soon they had me committing armed robberies, beating people up and carrying weapons. This was getting out of control and I needed saving.

Two years passed. I was thirteen and I was in too deep. We were about to rob a well-known crack den. It was heavily guarded and virtually impossible to get into. Yet we thought we could do it. How tragically wrong we were. Fifty of us went on the job. We left at dusk and began setting up. Once we were ready, the massacre began. You might be wondering why I described this mission as a massacre. Little did we know that a mole leaked information to the crack den. They were ready and prepared for us.

My heart was pounding out of my chest and my head was thumping, blood rushing to it. Suddenly, they began shooting at us. We retaliated. Out of the fifty Cobras who went, only ten came back. Of course, we didn't come back to the den. The police were on the scene just ten minutes after we opened fire. It was chaos, but it all ended before it had even truly begun. The ten of us who lived were all arrested. We were sentenced. My comrades and I received ten years in prison for second-degree murder.

We were all sent to separate prisons. I never knew what became of those who were left. As I spent my days in Feltham Prison, I kept an eye out for anyone I knew. But if anyone I did know was brought here, I never recognised them. We were given one hour visits twice a week. Nobody ever visited me. I know that I haven't got a real family, but I thought that those from Birchwood would care. Although, now that I think about it, I realise why they wouldn't. Throughout my years with the Cobras, I had ignored them. I didn't go to their birthday parties. Never went swimming with them. Didn't pick them up from school. Why should they care about someone who didn't care about them?

There's a moral to this story. Stay away from drugs. Get yourselves away from gangs. They are the reason why I am stuck in prison. Why I have lost my 'true' friends. Why the people I cared about have left me.

Gangs.That is what got me into this mess. 

Authors Note:

Here is a short story I wrote as part of my English assignment. I liked it quite a bit so I decided to post. As I am rewriting this I won't be doing any major editing apart from mistakes and parts that don't make sense. I will now be trying to begin uploading my Lion King fanfiction and my Gravity Falls fanfiction. As well as updating The Odd Weasley Out. I also have plans to collaborate with my friend to write an Undertale fanfiction. More information will be released as and when. Thank you for your support my Sassy Pixies! XxXx