America: The Broken

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After the massive, unnecessary murders of her race, Faith Collins, a seventeen year old college freshman, was given the gift to attend a very high and mighty school outside of her Southern home of Pensacola, Florida. After a murder of someone who was very special and dear to her heart, Faith had to make a choice. Sit down and stay silent or get up and unleash hell. After the visions, the dreams, and voices in her head, Faith questions what should be her next move.

Action / Drama
Lesi Tesfaye
Age Rating:

1. A New Day


“Get your hands off of me!” I was thrown on a bed and forced to sit still because I was tied up.

“Shut up!” A man said as he covered my mouth I felt like a prisoner.

“This is disregarding someone’s rights. I don’t even know where I am!”

“Don’t get it twisted little girl you know exactly why you are here.” I tilt my head in confusion because I don’t know how I got here or how I ever landed in this room “Look at you, and to think that you would do all of this. Me and my boys will get a reward for catching the ‘Faith of the black people’ Whatever that means.” I get furious but I am still confused on what he is talking about. “We will turn you in, but for now, this will be for every white being you harmed.”

I wake up, my heart was popping out of my chest. What a crazy dream... I say to myself as I looked at the time and it was 7:30 in the morning.

“Holy God.” I hop out of bed “This teacher will eat me up if I’m late again.” I ran to the bathroom, straightened my hair, put on some nice clothes, grabbed a bagel, and hopped inside of my car.

My name is Faith. I’m a seventeen year old black girl. I know what you’re thinking. You’re only seventeen? Yes, the only reason is because my birthday is late and I also started college a little early than my classmates. So here I am attending Foxbury Institute which is an HBCU might I add. I’m going for Creative Writing because I’ve always had this dream to talk, and speak truth to power.

I turned on the Radio

“It’s been a year since the killing of 23 year old Jaden Woods.” They were still talking about the 23 year old man that was killed by a police officer. “The police were in fact not guilty because drugs were found in the trunk of the car. Jaden Woods, an African American attended Britechester University for Creative Writing.” I changed the Radio

“The cops just found out the man had drugs in his car.” The man said

“Why would a black man have drugs in the trunk if he was going to school that same morning?” The other man on the radio replied

“Something about this case is very fishy!”

“Yeah, that’s enough radio for me” I turn the radio off.

I looked at the time and it was edging closer and closer to 8:00 so I began to speed up and I saw lights began to flash. I facepalm just to see I was speeding in the school zone. To take precautions, I took my wallet out and my papers and put my hands on the wheel before the cop walked to my car.

“Ahem” He clears his throat. “License and registration ma’am.” I looked at his waist to already see that he had his hand on his gun. I gulp down a big chunk of my spit and I slowly reached for my wallet. Still staring at where his hand was, I tried to reach for my license as it fell on the floor.

“My wallet fell, can I get it?” He nodded as I was still looking at his hand position. I picked up my license and wallet and gave him my wallet. He reads it as my eyes are glued to his gun like a cat when it comes to catnip. “Excuse me, there is no need for alarm, can you move your hand away from the gun please.” I said in fear he forcefully slams his hand on my car as I flinch and looked away

“Is that a threat?”

“No sir I just feel threatened with your hand inches away from your gun sir.” I look into his eyes. “Why does it have to be your gun why not your taser.” He began to open his pouch but closed it. He sighs and returns my information.

“Have a nice day Miss.” He walks back to his car and drives off. I check my phone to see that it is 8:05

“Awesome...” I say to myself driving away.

I parked in the parking garage only to get out and see that everyone has beaten me to class. I sneaked into my Literature class.

“How are you Faith?” My professor said as I looked at him.

“I’m good Mr. Henderson” I sat down slowly and reached notes out of my bag.

“Okay before our favorite writer came in we were talking about this topic right here.” He circles a specific question on the board.

“All the things that are happening right now, if you were an activist, would you handle things nonviolently, or violently.” Sasha raised her hand

“Yes Ms. Walsh”

“I would handle it peacefully. I believe that an eye for and eye and the world goes blind. If we handle things peacefully then maybe they will understand we aren’t a threat.” I made a face because I disagreed but agreed as well.

“Good answer. Anyone else?” One of the guys raised their hands “Yes Mr. Wilson”

“I would handle it violently.”


“Because of the things that our race went through, I wouldn’t cut it. I’m not gonna spare them at all.” I looked down as Xavier kept talking and I thought to myself.

“Faith.” I snap into reality. “What do you think.” I gulped and looked around at my classmates.

“Um...I’m not sure...” I said nervously.

“Why would you ask the not black girl in our class Mr. Henderson?” I’ve never seen her hair in curls or braids. Ever. She always dresses professional, and she rarely does anything of her culture.” I look down in embarrassment as I see the head of the school walk in with two white men and one female.

“Mr. Henderson.” She said. “I need you about that thing.”

“Got it Mrs. Clark. Y’all are free until the bell rings.” I pulled out my journal and wrote in it.

I got a text from the group chat.

Markus: did you see those white people in our school?

Kailani: Yeah I did. They are from Britechester University. They are not gonna make me go there with those girls.

Faith: They just came into my class and the headmaster called Mr. Henderson.

Markus: She wanted the Literature teacher?

Faith: Yes. I don’t have a clue why though. But I have something crazy that I need to tell you guys.

“Hey Faith.” I look up to see the girl with the natural braids calling me. “When are you ever gonna wear your hair curly?”

“When I feel like it.” I looked at her and made a face.

“Why is your name Faith?” Xavier asked.

“My mom is a Christian. That’s all you need to know.” I opened my journal again.

“Where are you from?” The other guy asked

“New Orleans.” I sigh in aggravation

“You don’t sound like it?” Tracy replied “How long you been living--”

“What the hell is this? 21 questions? Can you please leave me alone.” I growl

“I mean you don’t act like a black girl. What are you code switching or something?”

“Okay guys. Stop asking Faith questions.” The head walks in “Faith sweetie. I need you.” She says. I get up and walk out the room.

“So Faith, we have heard a lot about you and your writing and might I say you certainly have a gift. We would like for you to come to Britechester for Creative Writing.” I look at Mr. Henderson and I get scared.

“I-I can’t do it.” I stutter. They gave me a paper anyway.

“Well, when you change your mind. You have a penthouse just for you.” The woman said. I nodded and tried to go back in the class then I saw all of the kids standing by the door. The principal stops me and pulls me to the side.

“Faith, those people did not come across town to see you just for you to say no.”

“That’s right. You have a gift and you should share it with the world. Not many people believe that people with our skin would be able to attend Britechester University.” I sigh “Do this for your family, your classmates, your race, and most” I look at the professors and walk up to them slowly.

“When can I start?” They smile.

“Right away.” The woman said “You don’t need to pack because we already have a bit of furniture for you.” You can start tomorrow. First class is at 9:00. I know because I am your teacher.” She smiles and walks away. I walked back in the class and pulled out my phone and began to text the group chat.

Faith: Make that into two crazy things to tell you.

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