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The Reason Why This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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I am being chased by a crazy woman in a car.

Now I know what you're thinking, Why is she chasing you? I'm wondering the same thing. It's not every day you have to run for your life, trying to avoid getting hit by a car, especially when the car is driven by your best friend.

“You betrayed me!” she cried out. Her silver convertible screeching in protest of the sharp turn she was putting it through. “How could you?” I looked behind me for just enough time to get a glimpse of the car barreling toward me.

I jumped out of the way in the nick of time. I felt the air whoosh past me as the car sped by. “Are you insane?” I yelled. “What did I even do?”

As she turned the car around, I saw that her eyes were wild and her makeup was a mess from her tears. I felt bad for about five seconds, but then I remembered that she was trying to kill me.

She glared at me with a murderous rage, like some psycho from a horror movie. “I thought we were friends,” she called, “but I guess I was wrong.” She gripped the steering wheel, preparing for ­another attack. I knew I wasn't going to be able to last much longer. My breath was already coming in short, erratic spurts. It hit me at that moment that I might actually die. I couldn't believe that my life was going to be snuffed out by my best friend.

I heard the rev of the engine. Time seemed to slow as the car got closer. The only thing I could see was the car, and then black. The next thing I knew, I was lying on the ground, listening to the blaring police sirens getting closer. I felt as though someone had stuffed me in a washing machine and set it on spin. The pain that ripped through my body was so deep that I almost passed out again.

She stood over me, blocking the sun. “You got what you deserved,” she spat. “I wish it hadn't come to this. But you betrayed me.”

I struggled to stay conscious. “Tell me one thing,” I whispered, as I squinted into the afternoon sun. “What did I do to make you want to do this to me?” At first, it didn't seem as though she'd heard me. I felt myself starting to slip back into the deep, pain-free sleep that was unconsciousness.

As I blacked out, she said the last thing I was expecting. “You voted for Obama.”

This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.





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