I Almost Got Away With It ~ Mindless Behavior

I gnawed on my lips as warm tears streamed down my face and as I used every fiber in my being to hold the gun steady. My heart pounded so loudly I could hear it and I was sure that he could hear it to.

"Now Imani, you don't wanna do that. Put the gun down" Dre said walking towards me slowly.

I glanced at all the bodies sprawled out on the floor that had created a pool of blood stretching down the entire hallway and suddenly felt remorse and guilt. There was splatters of blood all over the lockers and all over my clothes leaving the smell of already rotting corpses to fill the air around Dre and I. I took a deep breath and tried my hardest to wipe those feelings and images away. Your're in too deep Imani, you can't back out. I thought to myself.

"If you take another step, I will end your life right now" I replied heaving my chest up and down. A trickle of blood splattered cascaded down his pale cheeks as his adam's apple jiggled while he gulped any saliva he had formed in his mouth.

"You've killed enough people, you should just get away while you can" he persuaded reaching his hand out.

I cocked the .22 Caliber and took a deep breath.

You would like to know what's happened to me don't you? I've been bullied. Only because i'm a little bit over weight. And after being jumped yesterday, I had had it and something needed to be done. My best friend showed me a gun and I couldn't help myself, to think about all the people who beat me up and called me names for the past three years and no one wanted to help me, really put me on edge and this was my way of jumping off.

My name is Imani Mariesella Gonzales and I am sixteen years old. I live in Los Angeles, California, but i'm from South Central. I moved to South Central from the Dominican Republic when I was ten years old. My papi is Dominican, but my mami is black. They both are in my life and they have worked hard all their lives for the little bit that we have.

I have dark brown, curly hair that stops at my shoulders and dark brown eyes. I am a full figured girl with no talents or anything that really makes me special. I speak fluent Spanish and English. My skin is caramel colored with no imperfections. I get really good grades and had plans on going to college someday, but not anymore.

I used to have one friend that protected me all the time. His name was Trey Young, but I gave him the nickname Roc Royal when we were eleven. He left me not too long ago and I never found out what happened to him. The dope boys that he used to chill with say that he died - he was always kept guns and switch blades with him - and sometimes when you asked his mom what happened to him, she looked away and changed the subject.

Yesterday after being jumped by a street gang, I snuck into the window of Roc's room and rummaged through his gun stash. I grabbed the one that he taught me how to use when we were twelve - .22 Caliber - and took it home with me.

And now here I am. Standing in front of the one guy that hated me more than any other person in the world, whilst holding a gun.

"Best for last" I stated.

His eyes grew wide with fear and as he turned to flee I fired the gun. He fell to the ground, blood influxed from his back and all I could hear was his moans of pain. In the distance, I could hear the sound of police sirens and the Paramedics indicating that I needed to move faster. I quickly rolled him over and took one last look at him. His eyes were locked on mine as he made bubbles out of the blood he continuously coughed up. Steaming hot, guilty tears poured from my eyes and drenched my blood stained tee shirt.