A gunshot. I fall. I don’t scream, I don’t feel anything actually.
I just hit the ground, a bullet encased in my back. Blood splatters the alleyway.
A gust of wind blows over my body, making me shudder. The man watches over me as I die but he remains still. He doesn’t help me, he doesn’t give me first aid, he just watches patiently as I lose my life.
I feel strange. I’m dead, which is probably why. I’m not dead yet, but I will be soon. I hear footsteps, more police officers, maybe. One walks up to me and sighs. “Who’s she?”
More footsteps. “Dunno. She was suspicious. Her and some friends were hanging out in this alley, it was loud and I had to intervene.”
”So you shot her?”
“Yes.”
I try to block out their voices. I don’t want the last thing I hear to be my murderer. I want my Mom. I want my brothers. I want my friends. I want them to come back and hold my hand as I die.
I lay on rough concrete, sirens blaring in my ears. I hear someone scream, “Kiera!” who I think is my Mom. Just as she gets close enough for me to see, I hear someone stop her.
“My baby!” She splutters. I feel really bad. This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have asked my friends to hang out so late, it was bound to be dangerous. I thought the men with guns were muggers or criminals, so I yelled at them all to run.
I was the one at the back and was immediately shot. They weren’t criminals; they were just policemen.
I never knew dying took so long. I thought it was quick. Sudden. But I’ve been sitting here for almost a minute and I can’t feel myself rising, or Heaven calling for me. All I feel is blood. Blood, pouring out of me, onto the street.
Running. “Stay back!” My killer says to the growing crowd. My friends are there, spluttering with terror.
“Kiera!” They cry out. I want to help them, but I can’t. I’m just sandwiched to the sidewalk like a chewed up piece of gum. I can’t move, I can’t talk, I can barely even see. All I can do is hear the desperation in their voices and it makes me feel worse.
I hear photos being taken. Questions being screamed at the police.
“Why did you shoot her?”
”MURDERER!”
”She’s just 14!”
”I hate this country!”
The voices eventually die down. Im surprised that they weren’t shot as well. A single tear rolls down my face. I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I?
Watching my corpse below me, I rise. My dead body may lay still but the people around it definitely don’t.
They scream ’Justice For Kiera!’ and I mouth it along with them.
ns 15.158.61.23da2
