It is not easy living with a single parent, let alone someone who has anger management issues. You are probably thinking it is all verbal, if only. Ever since I was thirteen, I wanted to run away. I never knew where, and I still do not. But here I am about ten minutes from home. Agitated all to hell, I grabbed some snacks and my father's gun before I left. You may think it is idiotic to run, I think otherwise.
My father would get mad over the simplest things, he would come find me to let out his anger. Physically. I was the son he wished he never had. I was never strong enough to run away until now, never had the guts to until now. I became a man, or at least I told myself. I am now an adult, legally. He was mad about some shit that happened at work when he came home. He yelled and cussed at himself before grabbing a beer and turning on the tv. I will never know what happened at work that day.
I was almost in town now, luckily for me was not far away from our apartment building. The city is wild at eleven at night, quite colorful too. It was a school night too. Will I ever return to my old life? No, I never plan to. Enough talk about that life, it is gone now. I continue looking as casual as possible walking through the city, with a mysterious backpack on my back. Nowadays that gets you some weird looks from those who walk by you, their eyes seem to try to scan what is inside the bag. I continue looking forward, walking casually, trying to look as normal as possible. I do not know where I am going, all I know is I made it out of the hell I was in. My father will not look for me, most likely. Ever. I am eighteen now, I could have left ages ago. I never had the time to get a job, more like I didn't have a car or the patience to get bossed by someone else.
I head towards an alleyway behind the local club, it smelled of cigarette smoke and hints of alcohol. Kind of like home, but worse. Anger is hereditary, I suppose as I felt rage pulse through me. I saw a girl, obviously from the club a few blocks back, or from a party. She had a red solo cup, most likely alcohol, and was sitting bent down crying on to her knees. She had a short dress on, it shined in the light. Why was she crying? Nobody would suspect an angry teen here, against a vulnerable girl. Where did this mindset come from? I do not really know what the hell I was thinking at the time, but I will tell you what happened next. A bullet went flying out in front of me, which my mind was clouded already. My brain slowly processing what had happened I look around before I hear a scream from the girl. The bullet hit her arm, she screamed in pain. The bullet came from me, I had pulled out the gun earlier in deep rage. Not sure if I was mentally prepared to use it. But it had felt good to hold, until just now. What do I do now? Reality would hit me again like a truck, I was screwed. I could get arrested; my dad would probably be after me then as well. My new life would be over, and it barely even started. Nobody was in sight, meaning mostly nobody would hear. The club was loud, it would drain the gunshot sound out of the air, or at least I told myself. She did not look directly at me, probably too drunk to see me standing in front of her. She was crying more now gripping onto her arm. I have no idea why I just shot a stranger, on accident. Was I really that angry? Was I really that careless? I never thought I had enough rage in me to hold a weapon, let alone use it. I stole it to feel safe. I then took my jacket off which was a bit large compared to the girl. I wrapped it around the wound on her arm like in the movies and hopes to stop the bleeding. I really had no idea what to do, I was in a near panic. I try to reach for my bag, which I dropped earlier after hearing the gunshot, I was frantic to help the vulnerable girl. It never hit me that the bullet came out of my hands, the stolen gun. I stole it from my insane father, who could have used it on me. But he never did. I held her in my arms, the vulnerable girl. The two of us helpless on the ground for a moment, the two of us sitting down. She looked scared, and in shock now the more I looked at her. I did not know what to do with the stranger, but for some reason running from the cops did not pop up in my mind. That would have been a bad idea, I could not leave her now. My guts forced me to stay with the girl. She was becoming aware of what happened, I assumed as she turned to look at her arm as I let go. I heard sirens, someone called 911 and it was not me. Meaning someone did hear the gunshots. The gunshot was heard by the nightlife, unlike I expected the night life to hide the sound. The old saying, expect the unexpected.
I quickly made sure my gun was in my bookbag, "my gun" I thought. I felt odd staying with a girl, after all I did just shoot her arm. The cops showed up first, they did not really ask questions, or I was in my own world not paying attention. The cops waited for the paramedics to show up, and take the girl to the ER.They show up and immediately put her on a stretcher, her eyes followed me as she was lifted, even though her vision was obviously still a blur. She spoke "wait." I did not understand who she was talking to, and her voice gave me a sense of excitement. The paramedics turned to me, all four of them looked directly at me. She was then attempting to make eye contact with me, and she motioned over. Sort of, point at me with her one good arm. What happened next scared me, she grabbed my hand pulling me with her once I got close enough to see what she wanted. Into the back of the emergency vehicle we went. She was gripping my hand tightly, a stranger. Did she think I was a hero?
I had my bag on my left shoulder, hoping they would not question my mysterious bag. It felt heavy, with guilt and hidden secrets inside. An emergency vehicle is a weird form of transportation, it is incredibly stressful. Or at least it was for me, I was terrified. Especially when a girl is bleeding, and you caused it. It is one hell of an experience. The cops stayed behind, looking for evidence most likely. It will probably make it to the news, I did not see any cameras luckily. As if I looked while in a fog of rage. When we arrived, I had forgotten how bright a hospital was, everything was white, and the air was heavy with dull emotions. It did not help my mood it almost made it worse. They made me stay in the waiting room outside, they called me her boyfriend. They assumed since I was holding her hand. Which we both know, I am not. What kind of person would bring a backpack to a club anyways? A psychopath with a gun would, I forced the thought out of my mind. I watched the tv, I did not make it to the news, but they did talk about a girl who was shot in an alley, that was me. Luckily, there was no footage of me, just a story and a headline. I am a criminal, an unknown criminal. They will for sure get the bullet out of her arm. It will lead back to my father. Maybe things will work out, I hope.
A doctor appeared, looking at me with a weird forced looking smile. "Your girlfriend is fine; the bleeding was minor, and we managed to close the wound with some stitches." That made me feel better a bit, but I still felt guilt throughout my body. "Oh, and the jacket actually helped reduce the bleeding, was that your idea young man?" I told him yes, waiting for him to ask about if I saw the shooters face, it was me. But no, he complimented me and told me that was a smart thing to do, I saved her life. He then led me to her room, she was obviously sober now, or almost hungover. It was now three in the morning. Her eyes were looking at me when I walked in. Her eyes did not scare me, I felt welcomed and wanted. Why? There were bandages covering her wound, wires everywhere. Typical hospital wires, I am no genius but there were several. There was an extra pillow under her arm, the arm I had shot on accident. She looked happy to see me, did she call me her boyfriend to the paramedics? I do not even know her name. She spoke again, " Thank you for saving me." She smiled; my stomach felt like it fell to the ground. I did not just save her life. I could have killed her too. I eventually broke the silence and told her a lie. " Oh, I was coming from a friend's house and went through town for some food at the gas station. I heard a scream and found you in the alley bent over, I am glad you're okay." That lie came to easy, but she believed it anyways. The doctor eventually left us alone in the room, he left with another weird looking smile. I did not like that guy. Neither of us knew what to talk about so I sat down on the sofa in front of the window, looking out at the ongoing night life. It was not too far from her. I tried not to stare at her too hard as I look back over curiously, you could say I had a thing for her now. I did not know then. She leaned back closing her eyes, sighing. She eventually fell asleep, she looked peaceful. I let her fall asleep, unintentionally staring at her. Most of the night, early morning, my mind kept jumping to conclusions. I could not sleep at all. She might die in her sleep or start bleeding again. I brushed the ridiculous thoughts away, focused on her peacefully sleeping again, which lead to me slowly falling asleep. Luckily for me, she was fine the following morning. Of course.
I was surprised they let me stay this long in the room with her, they called me her boyfriend. The weird part was we both went along with it, even though she knows for a fact I am not her boyfriend.
