As I'm walking down the gray concrete and as the sun is hitting down to my skin I feel the warmth up my arm, the wind blowing through my hair back and forth into a messing tangled hair. As I'm carrying the old and dusty books that were used when my mother and father first had them, but soon summer will come and I wouldn't have to carry those books that I have to bring home just to use one page each day. Soon I will be free just like the birds high in the sky, but when I turn the corner I feel like a bird in a cage with many locks hoping to flap my long wings into the clear blue sky. Every time I turned that corner I feel like I'm in the past.
"Go back to Africa...," one of the tall girl said while pushing the colored girl while the other girl punched the colored girl in the face so hard it made the colored girl cry.
Right away I put on my headphone pretending I was listening to music while reading my textbook. I felt so guilty, so hurt I couldn't bare to look up, but I glanced up and saw the black girl. The color that my parents don't approve, the color that people think is dangerous, the color that I'm afraid to talk to. I see in her eyes that she was hoping I would help her just one look made me feel so many things that I can barely tell what I'm feeling. The look she gave me made me feel so guilty for not doing nothing, I couldn't speak, breathe, blink, move, touch, taste, or see. If I breathed they would see me, SHE would see me, but deep down in my heart I knew what was the right thing. So, I walked a little faster and I went home, couldn't barre to look at myself for what I done or what I haven't done.
In dinner time, I found myself playing with my broccoli; throwing it back and forth with my fork in silence with my parents.
"Why do you guys not like black people?" I said loudly while my parents both stared at me like I'm crazy for saying those words.
"Well Abigail..." my dad said while slowly putting down his fork and as mom wipes her mouth with a napkin.
"Honey, I will tell her the story," my mom interrupted while looking at my dad then me. My dad noted at my mom and then looked at me. "It all started when you were just about 9 months old. One night your father and I heard a window break from your room and you started to cry. So your father rushed to your room and saw that the big window was broken and some of the glass went on top of you and some of the glass cut you from all over your body." My mom voice started to crack like she was about the cry. "And well, your father saw two colored people jumping out of the window and stole about 200 dollars and a small little radio that your aunt bought for you."
"But what if they changed and became nicer?" I said.
"No honey, they would NEVER change, we will never be safe until they LEAVE," my mother said while crying. My father got up and tried to comfort my mother. While I started to head up stairs into my room I couldn't think of nothing to say to my parents. All I felt was anger inside me because I couldn't believe that my parents didn't agree with me.
Once school ended I started to head home in the corner of my eye, I saw the same girl who was getting nasty comments sitting on the bench. I decided to sit right next to her.
"I'm sorry," I said to her.
"...Sorry for what? You didn't do anything," she said, giving me a glance and looked back down.
"Well... that's the thing, I didn't do anything to stop the girls from hurting you and saying nasty comments to you. I just pretend I didn't see you or what was going on," I admitted.
"Wow, that was nothing compared to what you saw from that day, I been through way worse, but I got used to it. Cause I believe that white people, no offence but, they don't understand that we're human, people treat use like we are nothing. People think that if one colored person do one wrong thing, then every black people must also do the wrong thing too," she stormed off into the streets, so I went to follow her.
*****
"I can't deal with this pain anymore," I feel a cold wet tear run down my face. All I see is tiny little car, with tiny little people with big problems. Cold and heavy wind have got me closer to a new beginning.
Three steps: If I went with the wind I can just imagine how easy life can be If I just let go.
Two steps: Maybe If I feel the rush going through my body I wouldn't feel the pain anymore.
One step:
"STOP you don't want to do this," the white girl said as she trying to catch her breath.
"Why won't you just leave me alone or maybe you can just watch me get hurt just like you did when the two girls hurt ME," I said. I fell and all I can see is the darkness I feel lost, cold, scared and alone.
Me was the last word I said, hurting myself was the last thing I was thinking, pain is the last feelings I felt and STOP was the last word that stuck out to me.
