Prologue
I remember playing in my backyard with my brother Parker when we were carefree kids. Summer time was our moment to throw away our school books and arm ourselves with water guns.
The grill would be going with the smell of charred burgers, hot dogs, and Mom’s famous veggie kabobs. Parker and I would recklessly shoot each other with the shivering, cool water which was a gift from my family’s water hose. As neighbors pass, they would get in the way of our combat and feel the contact of our liquid bullets. They would often act surprised if they were hit when in reality they actually wanted to feel the frosty fluid on their burning skin.
Those people, no, those hypocrites would do it on purpose. Those hypocrites would purposely steal our gold bullets.
I on the other hand, walked in on an unwanted war. I walked into an unwanted bullet. However, the sadistic part about it, is that if it were possible for me to go back in time, I would eagerly.
Without a doubt.
Make the same mistake.
Repeatedly.
For them.
You don’t realize how much blood a person has until you’re laying in your own puddle. When the neighbors were shot, the only thing that came out of them was a sign of relief. Yet, I had a sigh of agony. Discomfort. Suffering.
The sun is setting
In the sky
Let’s light the moon
And bring it high-
As I lie down,
I breathe in times of three.
And, feel the love
Come back to me
Oh how I wish this silver bullet were a squirt of chilling water from Parker’s water gun.
The aching my ankle used to get when I scraped it on the sidewalk when I was younger is nothing compared to the throbbing in my stomach which was punched by ammunition. Real ammunition. Murdering ammunition.
If I had never kept opening my bedroom window for him.
Or letting my Dad kidnap me for the second time.
Or letting my brother back into my life.
Or braiding his hair.
Or smoked.
Or even accepting my powers.
No!
I’m crying over these people getting hurt and could care less about my life slowly slipping away. And a piece of silver was all it took.
Maybe this was meant to be. I’ve lived, and I mean truly lived. I’ve experienced: friendship, a brother, a first kiss, a heart break, a family, and love.
And now death.
Isn’t this supposed to be how life goes? I couldn’t save them. I let them down when they put lives in my hands. I should just give up now before I fail at dying too.
