Creative Writing: The Murderer

709 Words2 Pages

“Caleb, how many times do I have to say it. I. AM. READY.” “We will talk about it later. We have to get to the house,” Caleb says, trying to lighten the mood. “Okay, I guess.” I guess I understand why he is so worried. When I was 8 years old, my best friend was murdered right in front of me. I heard the gun go off, I saw the bullet enter her body. She died in my arms while the Paramedics were speeding down the street. “Tina, come on! TINA!” I remember screaming over and over at the top of my lungs. “Don’t worry, I’ll be okay Ash. I’ll be okay,” were her last words. And then she died. The murderer was not caught for a whole two weeks. When the killer was put on trial, he admitted that he was not trying to …show more content…

I’ve always admired his dazzling emerald eyes, and how he can tell a story with them. It makes it painfully easy to tell when he’s worried. He is. He shifts in his seat, and glances over at me uncomfortably. He sees me and holds my gaze. I finally look away, knowing how conflicted he is feeling. I know because I feel the exact same way. Tina’s death affected me in ways it shouldn’t have. Everytime I see my reflection, I want to scream. Why her? Why couldn’t Theodore Carson have aimed correctly and shot me instead? But of course, I know what people would tell me. God wanted you to live., they would say, Fate chose you. Fate didn’t choose me, God didn’t choose me though, I was just standing on the wrong side of Tina that day. I should have been on the left, I was always on the left. That one day I decided to stand to the right of my best friend, and that decision had dire consequences. I lost my best friend, all because of the side I was standing on. Even she questioned why I wasn’t on the left, I was always on the left. I prided myself on always being on the left. But I wasn’t on the freaking left, because I was seeking a new perspective. I think. I was 8, maybe I just mixed up my right and left that day. We may never

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