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Pulling the Trigger
I just turned into the parking lot and dropped off my mom at the supermarket. My day was just getting worst and worst. I couldn't find hope anywhere I looked, and I could tell that my beloved mother was worried about me. I would just drop her off and hopefully she would forget about the whole thing.
A boy ran up to my unlocked passenger door, jumped in, closed the door after him, and pulled out a gun. He was young, maybe 17. His long white shirt covered well bellow his thighs, but his jeans were extremely low. If it hadn't been for the shirt you would most likely see the bright bowers underneath saying "I heart Mommy". His eyes where young, but his heart was hardened. He had seen things that he shouldn't have. He yanked open my door and with a commanding voice said,
"Get out of the car, leave your keys in the ignition, and if you dare make a sound, I will shoot you."
On any other day, I would have listened to him. I would have gotten out of my car, and let him drive off the stolen merchandise. I looked at him with disbelief.
"You have no idea what I've been through today, Honey. I would love to help you pull that trigger right now."
He then pointed the gun to my head, and then he yelled
"I will do it! Trust me! They'll kill me if I don't!"
I was already beyond self preservation. I was dying on the inside, and so was this kid. I was just so tired of men and their games. I took a hold of his armored hand and placed the end of the gun to my head. I looked at him with tears rolling down silently down my face. I shutter ran through me. I knew that it was time.
"We can help each other," I said, "You shoot me, you get a car, and don't get killed. I don't have to deal with life anymore. You see, Hun? There are bigger problems around you then just having to steal a car, or wearing the latest fashion. I AM DONE. I don't care what you do, but let me tell you, I can help you onto a path that will make you the same as me."
The boy didn't move. He remove his eyes from mine, and now I wasn't the only one silently crying. He was astonished by my actions. I knew that he was new at this, but I also didn't care if he pulled the trigger. I slowly took my hand away, and he still held the gun against my head. I closed my eyes and waited. Suddenly, the cold metal was away from my temple, and the magazine taken out. I opened my eyes to see the boy popping out the bullets one by one. They bounced on the carpeted floor of my car. We were both still crying, but not another word was spoken for a while.
I got out of my car, leaving the keys in, and walked into the store to give my mother money for a bus. When I came back into the parking lot, my car was still there. The boy was still inside, looking at the empty gun in amazement.
I got into the car, the boy had stopped crying, and after 5 minutes of sitting there beside each other, he began to tell a story of his life in gangs, and how this was his initiation into the "adult" part of the gang.
"I just found out that my husband of 3 years has been sleeping with my best friend. He doesn't want to see me, or our kid again."
The boy looked at me, now with empathy,
"I'm sorry." the boy said.
"I'm sorry about your story too." I said.