Hell

one

You know when you go out somewhere, and your mother always tells you to be careful?

Or you're not allowed to even go, for that same reason?

You'd always lash back at her, telling her you're fine and nothing will happen to you. Teenagers have the 'invincible' mindset. Whether we're willing to admit it or not, it's there.

You're practically an adult and you can handle your own. You know when you're in a bad situation, and you know how to get out of one when needed.

That's what we all think- and tell our parents as we rush out the door, ignoring their worried faces, begging us not to do anything stupid.

I should've listened. I should've believed her when she told me going wasn't a good idea. After all, mothers always know best. But I was too stupid to consider that she was telling me not to go not for her benefit, but for mine. She knew it wasn't a good idea, and that it wasn't safe. But I didn't listen.

I never listened. 

Maybe if I did, I wouldn't have gotten that tattoo on my hip last year without her permission, and had a terrible reaction to it.

Or maybe I wouldn't have gone out with that troublemaker a couple months ago, who was only after one thing. Like she told me to begin with.

And if I listened to her earlier today, I sure as hell wouldn't be leaning against the wall of a run down, dark alley in Los Angeles, with blood streaming down my side.

It all happened fast. I was on my way to meet a few friends, and was walking from the bus station to the club. 

I wouldn't have had to have taken the bus if I listened to mom last weekend. She wouldn't have taken my car keys away if I didn't sneak out to go to a college party.

These shady guys were walking in close proximity as well, just the sight of them gave me a sick feeling in my stomach. But I kept walking, my head held high and my chronic-bitch face on full throttle.

It wasn't those guys I had to watch out for. It was the group that drove by them, shooting out all four windows.

The ones being shot at quickly scattered, but I didn't know what had happened until I was caught in the crossfire, a bullet penetrating my left side.

It was surprisingly empty around there. And know I knew why. 

My phone, which was in my hand when I was shot, fell to the ground, and being the case-less iPhone it was, shattered completely the second it hit the pavement.

I grabbed it, and inched my way over the the corner of the alley and sidewalk, hoping to prevent getting into any more trouble. 

My side throbbed and I could tell I was losing a lot of blood. I didn't have anything to tie around it, and I couldn't navigate my phone through the cracks. If it'd even work anyway.

I leaned my head back against the brick, feeling even more faint as the seconds pass. 

Don't sleep. Don't close your eyes.

I tried to fight it, I really did. But my eyes uncontrollably fluttered closed, and how good it felt. 

"I should've listened to you, mom, I'm sorry," I whispered as I held my hands at the bullet wound, my eyes still closed.

If I wasn't going to die from blood loss, I was going to die from the bullet still inside me anyway.

I snapped my eyes open. I wasn't ready to die. I was 17 years old, I've barely been able to live!