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Inspirational short story of a young girl who chooses to make a change to her risky lifestyle through a run-in with the police.


Submitted:Mar 16, 2013    Reads: 19    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


Red and Blue lights beamed upon my back, sizzling through my aura of hardheartedness to reveal my true vulnerable inner-self. Taking one more painful leap across the cracked concrete, I came to a sudden halt, pressuring my legs to collapse under me. It was a dead end, seeing the high brick wall guarding my escape route was like receiving my death sentence. There was nowhere to hide and that's when it dawned on me, the reality of my life. It's was over before it began and when all is said and done, who's going to be there to support me though the hard days of prison? Who's going to stand by me and help me to escape my troubled fate? No one, because I am alone and this is the end. I let loose the tears that have been coming for years which I kept inside for fear of showing what I really am. A weak little girl.

Earlier that day

"Josie! Wake up you lazy sloth!" My roommate Michael's screeching voice pierces the lonely silence of my deep sleep. My mouth is groggy and my head spins as bright rays of sunlight flood through the window onto my face.

I stand up wearily on my shaky legs, every muscle and bone in my body ache with each minor movement; breathing takes it all out of me. Slowly I inch toward the bathroom, the stench of regurgitated alcohol from my previous night of partying fills my nostrils and it feels as though my insides are about to come up through my as well.

In half an hour I'm drudging out the kitchen door on my way to school. I don't eat because I'm afraid my stomach can't handle it and my throat is in too much pain from the acid burning into my oesophagus. If my eyes didn't feel as though they were burning to crisps I would say it were a very nice day. The sun is out and the birds are whistling a wonderful tune. I wonder if others take the time to notice little pleasures like these but wouldn't consider asking. Things like that are for the sensitive and nature is for the inferior while electronics rule the world.

I arrive at school to find that my first subject is English. God help me. I'm actually quite bright in this area but the class is filled with over-achievers and if I were to show a slight of anything but indifference toward the lesson my mates will think I'm square and not invite me to the party tomorrow. Our teacher, Ms. Calloy is a rigid forty year old cow with a strict agenda bent on getting me kicked out of her class. Though I can't quite blame her for the easily obtainable goal, this doesn't mean I agree with her methods of 'discipline' which seem to only apply to me. She once ever so subtly told me this was because she is aware I have a brain, but refuse to use it.

"Everyone! Hush now and take out your books. I'd like to check your homework from Friday. I know a few of you" she shoots me a sly death stare and continues with her speech " think that the work I set for you is pointless and don't bother to attempt it. You will surely fail in life. Those of you who have in fact completed your work please raise your hand and I shall come around and check it." While a few tired hands slide into random obtuse angles, one, the arm of Gracie Snell, the teachers pet's hand shoots up toward the sky without hesitation, but an air of superiority. She's tall with perfect skin and silky blonde hair that makes my comparatively dull brown locks look like it came out of the sewer. I would consider her quite attractive if she didn't constantly have that proud grin painted across her face making her appear like a witch.

As Ms. Calloy crossed the room a paper plane landed on my desk and she had snatched it up before I'd even had time to unfold it. Her speed is remarkable. She opened the flaps gingerly then scowled at what was hiding behind them. "MISS JOSIE FORLIN! PRINCIPLE'S OFFICE NOW!".

I'm sitting in the old musty office waiting for Principle Hoffman for two hours staring down at my black nail polish and leather wristbands. My mother hated them while I was still living with her and her loser boyfriend. I've never been particularly fond of black but it signifies my insipidity when it comes to emotions. It turns out that the paper plane featured a particularly vulgar picture of Gracie with some unpleasant words. I don't bother to challenge the Principle's decision to have me suspended. Besides now I'll have more time for my night job. Michael and I sell cocaine to street gangs. Tonight was going to be a busy one.

11 PM that night.

It's 11 PM and the moon was full, shining on Michael and I, the only conceivable witness of the crime we were about to commit. It all happened so fast, someone must have tipped them of because we aren't there ten minutes when we heard the sirens of approaching police cars. Before I could fathom what was happening I saw Michael pull out his gun and shoot the front, left wheel of a cop car which came skidding towards us and we began to run. Michael didn't make it far before he was hit in the lower back and fell to the ground. I looked to my side upon his face to catch a glimpse of his agony. But I keep running. Until I came to the dead end and had my epiphany. As the tears began to flow and I was being dragged away by to two large police officers, I made the decision to change, to be good. And just as we began to drive away to police station, to the rest of my life I whispered to myself, "Only I can change my life. No one can do it for me". And that's exactly what I did.





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