Karma Buildup

March 9, 2010
By Taryn Miyaoka BRONZE, Shoreline, Washington
Taryn Miyaoka BRONZE, Shoreline, Washington
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

I didn’t want to do this, but I had no other choice. Hopefully nobody gets in my way, I don’t want to hurt anybody. I stomp on my cigarette just as it hits the ground, “Filthy habit”. I have a family to think about, which is why I have to get in and get out, without getting caught. It don’t even feel like I’m in my own body, like this is all a dream. My whole head is spinning trying not to over think my plan and blow it. The one thing that comes to mind is that I just have to get out of Jersey City.

Entering the store I feel like I’m going to have a heart attack. At least this bandanna covering my face is hiding the fact that I’m hyperventilating. Thinking of my family I made myself take out my handgun. All I could say was “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I need more money”. As I left I decided to take some scratch off lottery tickets to hopefully make me some money, a cell phone, and some cigarettes “I really need to break this habit,” mumbling to myself as I left the mart.

My family was waiting in a maroon, window-tinted car. My kids don’t know anything this is something that I would have to keep from them for a while. I was doing this for them but at this age they wouldn’t understand. My daughter age six and my son at age three should not be knowledgeable of these things right now. Their innocence should be kept as long as possible. I told my wife what I was going to do; she agreed with me this was what was best for the family as long as I didn’t get caught. Life has been hard for a while now, and we’ve all sacrificed so much. My kids don’t deserve to live in the streets; this was for them darn it I’ve turned into my father, I thought to myself. He always wanted what was best for the family except he actually got caught. I never wanted to resort to these things I always wanted my kids to have a better life. Watching them sleep in a car that we stole instead of in a cardboard box. Gave me hope that we could get out of this mess, and start over in a new city. Hopefully I can get a job, and give back the 300$ that I took and leave this part of our life behind us. In the distance I can hear sirens, as I turn around the colors red, white, and blue are flashing at me.

“Bang Bang” the police are actually shooting at us, my main focus is watching my kids as my wife tries to get us out of this jam. The commotion is disrupting the kid’s sleep this is one bumpy ride. Which looks like it’s making them harder to sleep. As I turn to look at them my daughter opens her big green eyes, looks at me and just questions me with one word “daddy?” That question hit my heart. What was I doing? This wasn’t the way this should be this is too much danger to put my family in. I look over my shoulder and my daughter starts to stand on the seat, her head is barely over the shortened headrest. As I yell at her to get down, the next thing that rung in my ears was the deafening bang of a gun. Leading to the thud as it hit her square in the forehead.

Stunned I can’t say anything; I can only hear my heart breaking into a million pieces. My daughter dead, and it’s all because of me. I put my family in danger; I did exactly the opposite of what I wanted to do. The banging of the guns and the sound of the sirens were drowned by the sudden pitter-patter of rain. The clouds were doing something that I couldn’t, they were able to cry a thousand tears a second, I was limited with 10 compared to there ten million. All I could do as I held on to my daughter’s body was say that I was sorry. That was the second time I’ve said sorry today and if it wasn’t for the first I wouldn’t have had to say the second.

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.

Parkland Book