My sneakers pounding on the pavement, my breath heavy and labored, sweat pouring down my face, Bad men at my heels.
Quick flashback for you. I was upstairs sketching A.K.A crying out in colors, when I hear my dad walk in to our crusty old tenement. He screams at me to make him dinner, no please at all. Now I'm in the kitchen making instant macarroni in the microwave, I hear more people walk into the apartment. They don't sound happy. They are yelling at my father about not giving them what they wanted. I'm sure it has to do with his job as a drug dealer. I'm not to worried, this happens a lot. Usually my father takes it outside, gives them what they want it's over with.
This is different, they aren't leaving. I cautiously poke my head around the corner, one short burly man has a switch blade, and seems to be threatening my father. The other is tall and lank, who is sitting head down, fingers intwined. My father makes a gesture To the tall one, he looks up and shakes his head. I hear the short one say to my father, "Just hand it over, you know I'll kill you." my dad shakes his head and says, "I don't have any more, I'm stopping, you'll have to find someone else." The short one makes a gesture with his knife, and say's, "you have the count of 10 to give me it, or I'll slit your throat slow and painfully." Shorty begins to count, "10,9,8,7,6,5,4-" "Fine! I'll make a deal with you!" yells my father. "I don't want no deals." Says Shorty. "Just hear me out!" says my father. "I'll give you cash, and the girl." he jerks his thumb back at me. My eyes widen in bewilderment.
The two thugs look back at me. I look at my Dad, he looks at me, his eyes are hard and emotionless. The tall thug looks back at my dad and says, "Deal."
I can't believe it. My Dad, my own dad just sold me. After all these years of me putting up with all the thugs, his heartless attitude, him driving my mother away. The two thugs grab me, and pull me to the door. I'm too frozen with hatred, fear, anger, and sadness, that I don't fight back. Halfway through the door, my father calls after us and says in a quiet voice, "Don't hurt her too bad."
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The Running Delinquent
Teen FictionA story of juvenile delinquency, friendship, love, and running away from some HECKA scary people.