Living in a family that only consisted of a brother who negatively influenced me, and a prostitute for a mother, was one of the toughest segments of my life. Every day I would see my big brother, become a more dedicated slave to drugs, and my mom running off with another guy that didn’t even know her name. It was devastating to live in a world where you see people surrounding you, yet you feel so alone. I’ve never gone a day without being hungry, and longing for someone to care about my existence. Living alone is hard but living in the ghetto, with people that didn’t realize that you’re still alive is even harder.
My family and I weren’t as fortunate as those who stained the streets with the tyres of their Mercedes Benz, or those who lavished in their kingdom like houses, and manicured lawns. The little money we had come from my mother’s prostitution, or the weed my brother sold for as long as I could remember. Cracked asphalt, brown lawns, broken phone wires and drains that transported garbage was what I knew as home. The smell of sulphur filled the streets, never did i once, taste the pleasures of fresh air. Pairs of shoes tied together, tangling from the rooftops, were the closest to decorations, where I grew up. The poverty was breaking me down. I couldn’t endure another day without something to eat, so I decided to do the regrettable.
With my hand in my pocket and my pants tied below my posterior, I patrolled the streets of this ghetto world, and like cards I picked whose corner store I was going to rob. I reflected on all that I was going through, which further encouraged me to per sue and carry out this agenda. At this moment my consciences dissipated into thin air. I never own a gun but I was determined enough to walk into the Chinese store with nothing but the knife I used to strip sticks, to demise my temper, and a Black hand kerchief. I walked around casually, like any ordinary customer, looking at prices of items as though I’d actually come to shop, but I was only waiting for the perfect moment, to slit the cashier’s throat and run away with all he had.
The two genuine customers finally left the store, unaware of what was about to happen. No sooner than they were out of site, did I tie the hand kerchief around my face and walked up to the cashier and demanded all the money he had behind the counter, all the while shouting to do as I say or I’ll cut your throat. I looked at him square in the eyes, having no pity though he trembled uncontrollably. He struggled to get all the money into a bag because I intimidated him. Unfortunately a man walked into the store only to notice me waving my knife in the cashiers face. He flipped out his phone and I could hear three beeps as he dialed that dreaded number. After the sound of the last dial, I picked up a speed and ran through the glass door of the store, up through and unfamiliar alley. The idea was to get as far away from the store as possible, so I stopped running to catch my breath after the store and everything around it was out of sight.
It took me a while to catch my breath, leaning against the cold wall of an abandoned building, which soon became my hide out. This paralyzing fear that crawled up my spine, made me wish I never left my house. Hyperventilation did help in regaining my strength to keep running. I hesitated as I looked around the corner of the building, peeping through the thick hedge that hid me. My heart was torn from my chest, at the sound of a siren. I looked up at the sky, as if it could even help me. In the corner of my eye, I saw blue and red lights flashing as they luminated what looked like the rooftop of a white car. I was too petrified to think straight but I managed to find my way into the building, seeking a hiding place from justification. I made my way to the dusty basement of the building, looking back every three seconds to see who was following me. Across the room from where I was, stood a closet. I helplessly got into it and sat in this closet for hours, not knowing what to expect. I was extremely exhausted and surprised that they couldn’t find me. I was in doubt of ever getting away with it, because they were just an inch away from finding me. I contemplated on how I could get out of this place without being recognized and having to run again. I sat there for so long in fear of even moving that my eyelids gave up and I fell asleep in this dark, cold, lonely closet that felt like my home. To this day, I still vividly remember, the day I almost got arrested.
