It's Year 2052 | Teen Ink

It's Year 2052

November 17, 2017
By Jemima SILVER, Cambridge, Massachusetts
Jemima SILVER, Cambridge, Massachusetts
5 articles 0 photos 0 comments

The little boy owned his own silver shot capped gun.
His 2 older brothers were members of the biggest gang in the west coast.
Which was run by the eldest brother.
Who inherited it from their father after he passed away, making their name more so a legacy.
They put fear in everyone's heart.
But that was 7 years ago.

Romero dressed up for school, tired from the drop he made the night before. In all black attire as usual.
“Get yo ass to school Ro”.
He was the baby in the family so he was always treated like one. At 17, Ro was living the life every teen wanted but they didn’t know how he was living it. Every week in his neighborhood someone was murdered. The rate had gone up. Before Romeros dad passed away he always used to talk about the early 2000’s and how no one ever took gun violence seriously. They made laws to allow people to own guns which is why he was able to make his original gang. They were all licensed. Which meant they all had legal access to these weapons that they shouldn’t have been able to have. His father never wanted him to be apart of this lifestyle, but how his father entered is how he left too.
When Ro was 11 years old he learned that his father was gunned down in a drive by shooting and from that day on he vowed to get his father's murderers. So when Ro went to school that was for his father, to get the education he promised him he would get but when he was in the streets he was out for cold blood. The education system fell when Romero grew up they only cared about students in honors classes not college prep classes. Which meant majority of those classes were all white kids and all the minorities were barely making it through. And to think we’d have a president who would actually care about the future of tomorrow?? Wrong. Gun violence went up and is tolerated and the education system went down and no one is doing anything to change it. This generation is literally in shams. Ro left the house to go to school instead of taking the car he decided to walk. Every guy on the side corners nodding their heads at him greeting him as he continued walking, soon his school building was in plain sight and he could see all his classmates hanging around. Just as Ro was about to cross the street 2 shot went off.
“Pow”
“Pow”
And then silence, the car drove off and you could hear the screeches as it sped off in the distance. He walked over to the body and laying in his own pool of blood was Trey Brown. The neighborhood baller, he was always playing basketball never did a thing to anyone so seeing him face down in this growing puddle was disturbing. Too many innocent people dying. Like his father. He walked in school and as soon as he walked in he’d regretted it. Security patted him down viciously as if he were dumb enough to carry anything on him to school.
“We know about you’re kind” baldie said.
“You guys were meant to fill those cells up” #2 said.
“We’re gonna catch you, dont worry” the fat cop snarled.
This happened to him at least twice a week and it was so normal that no one bothered to do anything about it. The thing about this school is that the kids were racially profiled against every other day, and their education system failed. Nothing was done to stop both of these problems, so over the years it got out of hand. But today was the day where they drew the last straw with Ro.
  “Get the f*** off me” He had said nice and calmly.
“We’re putting all your kind behind all our bars” The cop first whispered in his ear.
“Get off of me” He’d said it with more rage than before.
“Shut the hell up” The cop yelled right along with him bodying him and chucking him on the floor as the officer's gun slid off of the holster. They wrestled for a bit before the other officers pulled their weapons out.
“Pow”..
“Pow”..
“Pow”..
“Pow”
There was a deadly silence.
Each officer had shot Ro. In the hallway of his school in front of his classmates. Losing his life how he promised his father he wouldn’t have. Through the glass, where his blood ran a little boy who was about 10 years old had watched the whole thing. Engraving this scene in his head so he could seek justice.



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