I walk down aisle two grabbing as many things as I can knowing I have no way to pay for any of it. My eyes scan the people wishing I was normal like them. Just hoping they don't notice my long greasy brown hair. Almost as wavy as my mothers used to be before she died. My hands start to sweat even though my body tells me I'm freezing. A can of soup falls from my hand and rolls toward an old lady. Her pale white skin matched her white hair. She looked at me with disgust as if I was contagious. I run to aisle four just as the manager heads my way. I freeze in place and my heart stops. He walks right past me as if everything is ok. If only he knew the tragic that layed ahead. He would understand why I was so jittery and take me somewhere safe. My feet start to drag me toward the cashier where I lay all the food down. Her name tag said Susie. I hope you don't get hurt Susie I think. My green eyes look up at her dark tan skin. Out of the corner of my eye I see my dad coming. His subby face looks worn out as he grabs a nine millimeter gun and points it at Susie. Her shaky hand grabs all the money with no hesitation. Tears of fear splash down her face. He grabs the money and stuffs it in his bag. With all the anger he has been holding in, he starts shooting at innocent people. A bullet pierces the old lady who looked at me with disgust. Three more people fall on the ground with no breath left in them. A little boy falls next to his mother with her blood all over his small hand. My father grabs me by the hand and grags me toward our red pickup truck. We both hop in with no regret at all. I have seen things that my little eyes should have never witnessed. I have been taught not to cry or else. When I was three my dad beat me black and blue until I stoped crying. I have not shed a single tear since then. He drives off but stops with skidding marks. There are five cop cars surrounding our escape route. I look at my dads face and for once he shows fear. He would rather shot himself than be arrested by the cops. So he grabs his gun and points it to his head with a single shed of a tear. The first I had ever seen. He turns to me and tells me sorry. To carry on his job and remember all the things he has taught me. The blast of his bullet sheds through his skull. I walk out of the car and fall to the ground. My legs too weak to hold me any longer. No more holding back what I have held in for so long. No more beatings and no more life lessons the hard way. The only thing on my mind is what to do.
August 20, 2010