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I wrote this so long ago because my site got a portfolio and we needed something...I wanted to continue it but never got to it. Anyways, here it is:

Chance. Chance was for people who deserved it. For people who did as they were told, and told as they did. It's not like you would get a chance to explain with the cops right? NO. So what made it seem so good for someone to commit a crime..that was clearly too risky. A crime that would split your whole family apart until your dads in jail, and your mom is in Cuba with some scanky step father. The only person you can trust is yourself, and these days, even that lets you down. What is chance to me? Chance is nothing of the ordinary. It is something that people call "luck". Too me these past years chance has given me nothing. So you will understand when I think another chance is pushing it a bit to much.


My life is melodramatic. It is a set of events likely to be a) the worst days of your life or b) the happiest momment of your life. Option B please! Of course, instead I get Option A, but 10 times the daily dose. I don't want to complain as if this is the worst thing that can happen in the world. Of course that is wrong for me to think when there are deaths all over the world, and that all over thr world, there are disease filled countries, children holding guns, and stuff like that. But, to me, it is my personal disease, my personal gun. It feels like a gun to my head, and the shooter is telling me to be quiet and die in piece without a sound. The saddest thing is that I listen to the shooter, and I open his words up with my heart, and let it remain there. Now that sentence, was melodramatic.



It happened on June 7th, 2003. I was still in history class, listening to my teacher babble about some story based on World War Two. Of course I cared about WW2, it was horrible. But my teacher makes the most exciting events of history, just as boring as dust on a book. The dust on my history book, that I had to buy but never used. My teacher didn't "believe" in "books". She said her own personal experiences were history. I was definitly not the only one in my class that thought she was a sadistic crone. She gave me a D on my final test. I thought that was going to be the most dramatic thing that would happen that day, well I was clearly wrong.


I stuffed my test in my bag afterschool, and left for home. That day, I had left my key inside, so, you could see my dilema. Locked house, no key. My dad had work, my mom was in New York visiting her sisters and my brother had school, I had a bench outside with my name on it. So basically, I thought, ok, waiting an hour or two wasn't going to be bad, I could practice forging my mothers signiture for my test, right? Wrong. When I got home, it was swarmed with cops. My heart stopped for a second when I got off my school bus, that was filled with class mates, they probably wondered, "who got murdered?'. Sadly, I was wondering that too. I walked up the steps in a dignified mannor. After a moment, i heard the door close and the bus drive away. Some kid shouted 'yo, if its your brother, can I have his PS2?'. That pissed me off a lot. But I kept walking.


I walked under the police tape, that said, CRIME SCENE, CRIME SCENE, CRIME SCENE. It was mocking me. I asked a police officer what happened. Our conversation was...weird.

"Yo, what happened?" was me, maybe i shouldn't have started with YO.


"Didn't you SEE the tape! This is a crime scene investigation, and you are not supposed to trespass." he basically screamed this too me. I had an urg to say. "**** off dude, this is MY HOUSE." But darn my manners.


But instead, I said, "Excuse me sir, but this is my house."


He pretty much lightened up after this. He looked like he was in his late 40's. For that, he was in great shape.


"Sorry hun," he said. "I think you should go to the police station with me for a while."


"Umm, no thanks," I said. "I'd rather want to know what happened."


He smiled a forced smile, and said, "It wasn't a question. And you'll find out everything when we go to the police station. Your mother is already there"


"My mom...?"


He went to some other cops and said that he was going to take me to the station. They nodded, and he got me in the passenger seat next to him.


My mind was blank after that. All I remembered was calling my brothers cellphone 10 times during the ride to the police station. At the 10th ring, he finally got it.


He basically yelled at me. "God, your a pain, stop calling! I was doing something important". I could hear a girl giggling. I was crying now.


"Something happened..." I said.

"What happened?" he asked, he probably didn't care.


"I...I don't know...our house is filled with cops, and this guy is driving me to the station...I don't know what to do!"


That last bit I screamed at him. He didn't talk for a long time, then he finally said it, "I'll meet you there, okay?"


I sighed and nodded. Then realized that he couldn't see me, so said yes, after a long pause while I was nodding. I flipped my phone closed just when the "guy" parked the police car. I walked out, and he asked me, "Who were you talking to?". I said my brother and he nodded. I told him he is coming here and he nodded again. "Good" was all her said


It was like, the more the merrier, or the more the sadder...


We entered the police station, and there was my mom, crying. I looked at her, and she did the same. She ran to me and hugged me, and I sobbed even more. And then, she finally looked at me and said...


"Your fathers gone"