Accepted To Kill

Chapter 1

City streets are usually bright and full of life, but not where I live.  After 10:00 pm no one dares venture outside.  Gangs haunt the streets like ghosts looming in the shadows. 

But unlike ghosts, gangs are not silent.  Gun shots, shouts, cries, and sirens are such familiar sounds at night that I'd think something was off if there was actually silence. 

         I stand outside my parents apartment building and press my palms up against my ears. The sky is dark but it's not yet nine.  I can hear my father shouting curses and names at my mother.  I don't want to hear it anymore. Fifteen years of being a coward listening to the cries of my mother as my father hits her. I wish I could help her, but I'm scared and my fear gets the best of me.

       My father is a cruel drunkard, and if he catches sight of me when he's drunk, I go to bed feeling like a piece of raw meat that's been pounded down.

         I raise my eyes to the stars that are only imaginary.  Only light I can make out is the flickering street light that is right outside my front door. I let out a long sigh and remove my hands from my ears as the crying stops. My father is probably passed out now.

Cautiously I tiptoe back up the steps to the front door and I peer inside. My mother is on the ground covering her face in despair, and as I expected my father is out like a light.

I cannot bring myself to enter.  I spin on my heel and head towards the blaring rap music a block away. 

Although it's unsafe to walk the streets alone, I don't care.  Nothing matters anymore.  If I die maybe then I'll be noticed, but that's doubtful. The music gets louder and louder as I approach a graffiti covered building that us kids call The Hex.

The windows in this building are mostly broken and boarded up, save a few that have bars in front of them. My heart pounds in my chest in a irritating rhythm from the blasting music.

Unlike most of the buildings in this area, this one actually has life. It's not just dull, dark, and silent, but painted with color; it's bright, and it's lively. 

Despite my longing to be within the building and to feel accepted by those within, I hold back.  One wrong move could cost me.  Sweat beads on my forehead as I take a step closer to the building to get a better view of what's going on inside.  Some burly guy is leaned up against the window and I can't see a thing.  Rats! 

Watching my footing so as to not step on any broken bottles and make noise, I circle the building.  It feels as though my hair is standing up on my head like a wolf aware of a foe.  I've never been so bold as to circle this building in the dark.  Kids in school have told me stories of people they knew who snuck back here at night.  They never saw them again.