The Way Of Gang Love-A Love Story

Chapter 1: The Very Start

If you're reading this, you probably have Level 3 clearance, and know all about the Chicago gangs. If you don't have Level 3 Clearance, then you should probably stop reading, because you might puke, or cry, or shit your pants.

"What is going on here?" I ask. The room around me is black. Pitch black. I look around, but all I can see is that I'm wearing a black dress, I have a golden baseball cap on, and there is a tattoo on my hand. I turn around. There is a mirror there. I walk towards it, and put my hand on my reflection; just long enough for the grin on it to stretch out, revealing bloody teeth and pieces of meat, my eyes, black and seemingly endless, like anything could be hiding in them, and for my own, demented reflection to grab my hand, and pull me into the mirror. Where it pulled me, I don't think I'll ever know, because at that second, my eyes flew open, and I barely made it to the toilet before I started puking. I heard my mother's sweet, clear, voice calling me to breakfast, but I just sat near the toilet, taking in the nightmare I just had. I couldn't shake the feeling of it, but I decided I'd try to ignore it. After all, mirrors can't attack you. Right? But I shouldn't even be scared of this dream by now. I had been having it for as long as I could remember. But it was always the same.

I looked at my reflection on the small, clean mirror in my bathroom. I had long, straight, black hair, cappuccino-colored skin that seemed to be glowing (except for a few pimples here and there, of course,) and my eyes, bright green, with spots of brown and maybe a hint of blue in there... I really liked my eyes. They were the part of me that I liked the most, in fact. Of course my eyes couldn't turn pitch black. I looked down at my body. I was curvier than most girls in my school, despite only being 15. I had a fairly sized chest, a medium waist, and curvy hips. At that moment, I was wearing black jeans, a white tank top, covered by a army green scarf that draped over my shoulders. The one good thing about public school is getting to wear more outfits than other kids at private or charter schools. I finally got out of my room, and went downstairs to the dining room, where my mother was making breakfast. My mother had light brown skin, black, thick, wavy hair, and was wearing a black shirt, jeans, and old Nike sneakers. You'd think that being the wife of one of the most famous businessmen in Chicago, she'd wear fancy ball gowns every second of every day, but my mother could be a queen bee one second, and be the girl that sits at the back of the class the next. She was tough, after all, living in the streets of Chicago for 12 years just changes a person in a way that nothing else can. Except maybe murder. But that's another subject.

I walked into home room, and made a beeline for a seat next to my best friend, Anaya. Before I even set my bag down, she said with a look of panic "look at the news!" My school would let us watch the news before class. I turned my head and saw a familiar face. It was one of our best friends from last year. Underneath his picture, it said "Kid shot to death". My jaw dropped. The news woman started speaking, and I held onto every word she said. She said that he had been walking around with a satchel that contained a jewelry box, which was in pieces on the ground. She continued, saying that an officer though he was a terrorist, because he looked older than 14. I saw a spot of blood as they panned the camera across the scene. I was angry. I was furious, so furious, in fact, that I stood up from my chair and left to go to the bathroom. I was so furious that I didn't notice the guy I was about to bump into, until I bumped into him.
I looked up at his eyes, and I knew... I had just committed the biggest (and, though I didn't know it at that time) best mistake of my 15 years on Earth.

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Editor's note: hi! If you're still here, I would like you to go follow my friend FightorWrite746 . And please read her story, The Indigo Child. Thanks y'all! Sorry if I make mistakes on here. Phone acting up. Byeeeeee!

                 -V