Looking Down the Barrel.
By: Josh G.
It was this kind of day that you wish you never got out of bed. Parents used to tell me that this was exposed to be the only safe place for a kid to go. Now that I see what this is all about. I guess sometimes parents are wrong.
Here I stand looking down a barrel of a .22 Cobolt hand pistol. I stand between the thin string that divides life and death and this is one thing that I would never want to be on, and now I was. This was it I thought. I couldn’t believe this would happen to me. But the worst part about it is no one will ever see me again.
I stood in the hall scared and nervous with a gun pointed dead in-between my eyes. I looked at the teenager who held it, I knew he was a junior, I knew his name. Also we were friends at a point, but as time grew we split our ways with different friends and interests. Now I regret all those mistakes I made and it was now I was finally realizing what I have don’t and who it had hurt. I guess I cant blame him for being mad or furious at me, but this has taken it too far.
He spoke to me, “Do you finally realize what you have done? Or do I have to help a little?” his voice was soft cold and dark. His veins were popping out of his face and neck. His hand gripped the gun harder and harder. I could see the bullet in the gun and the sides of the barrel that looked like a spiral down, and I knew if he shot that bullet would come spinning in a perfect line towards me.
The only thing I could do was shiver. Until I finally built up enough courage to speak.
"I'm... I'm... I'm Sorry!"
And with those final words a cruel pricing shot.
