|
|
|
[Insert Story Title Here]
I didn't mean to kill him. At least it wasn't like I planned to. I barely understood what I did until it happened. It was too fast for me to comprehend. It just seemed to happen. No warnings, no back up plans, no real motive.
But either way, I did it.
Most people say that a child isn't capable of understood murder. Taking me, I guess it would be confusing. If you looked at me, you wouldn't say I was a child. You wouldn't say I was an adult either. I guess you don't really know what to call fifteen year olds. Our brains know what's right from wrong, but they're still not smart enough to tell when we're being easy manipulated or tricked. But I've seen adults who's brains work the same way. Either they haven't grown up, or they're not adults. You can be the judge.
The world was fine with me, like it is with everyone else. It chewed me up and spat me out and I just stood up and walked into the same bowl I'd been eaten in. It wasn't hard. Stupidity is always easy. It was when I realized why I'd been spat out that I was forced to be smart. It wasn't that hard. Being forced is always easy.
I blinked my eyes open in October, staring at the brightening ceiling. I closed my eyes, trying to go back to sleep. But that damn clock kept staring at me, nagging me to wake up or I'd miss something important. And in a way, I was. Whether it was watching my brother kill a fly or my mother scratch her arm, I was missing it. Oh, and school was important too.
Getting ready in time was never my problem, though free time always confused me. You're waiting for something, but it won't get to you until a clock tells it to. That was what the bus stop was like.
Miss Clarence was too pretty to be a bus driver. She could have been a model at one time, but obviously it didn't happen. Perhaps they denied her a good pay. Perhaps she was over the 'twenty pounds or less' limit. It didn't really matter. But it was something I would think about occasionally.
"You always look so serious." Gabriel told me, her blue irises looking up from her hot pink rimmed glasses.
"I am." I tell her.
"But, don't you ever have fun?" A platinum lock was brushed away from her cheek.
"Yes." I reply and look out the window. It's hot today.
"Like what?"
Her voice reminds me of a loud parakeet I had when I was little. My dog ate it.
"I read."
"But that's not real fun. I'm talking about things like parties and stuff like that. Reading is stupid."
Her face is much too quiet to fit her glossed mouth. It's strange that she always talks to me. It's not that I'm an outcast. The typical tv drama of a prom queen talking to a recluse. It's not like that at all. It's just that for a girl so determined on getting me to like her, she always says the wrong things.
"I don't think it's stupid. I think parties and games are stupid. Taking in too much alcohol that may or may not be already drugged by the boy who whispers sweet things in your ear while trying to reach up your skirt doesn't appeal to me."
She doesn't say anything else. I don't try to start a conversation. I'd rather her sit and be angry about it. Maybe she'll think about it at one point. But that's not likely. She'll probably just use it against me later.
I stare at the people outside of the glass. Blue, Blue, Green, Blue, Green Blue, Blue, Yellow, Green, Blue. Their lives hover above their heads like messy blurs painted in the air by a small child. I slowly wonder what would happen if they themselves could see the bright color of their lifespans too. They never will.
I blink. There's red. I attach my eyes to it. Once again, I find myself waiting for something that will only happen when the clock is right.
The bus suddenly jerks, sending students toward the left. But I'm prepared. I grab onto the seat, my eyes still attached to the red. A screeching is heard, students flying forward this time. Even me.
"What happened?!"
"I don't know!"
"Some guy ran a red light?"
"What's going on Mrs. Clarence?"
"What happened?"
My eyes move back to the window. The red is fading.
A girl ahead of my seat screams.
"Someone just got hit!?"
"What?!"
"He just ran out in front of the bus!"
"Why would he do that!?"
"Is he dead?"
"Oh my God, there's blood!"
A few more screams shatter the questions.
"Where is he!?"
"He's under the tire!"
"Is he alive?"
"What's going on?"
Miss Clarence is already out of the bus, trying to help the man under the tire. She stares at him quietly, a hand going to her mouth. The red is gone.
Her cellphone is taken out, her hands shaking a bit as she calls the police. After a few silent mouthings, she makes her way back onto the vehicle.
"Is he alright?" Gabriel asks among the silence, her face almost as pale as Miss Clarence's. I know the answer.
"He's dead." her small voice creeps out. Silence is all that anyone can say. I move my eyes to her face, then back to the man. Of course he's dead.
His life ran out. I watched it.
 BlackCandy705 · Mon Dec 22, 2008 @ 04:24am · 0 Comments |
|
|
|
|
|
