Innocent
Daughter
She stood on the street corner waiting for the school
bus. She lookes down the street, just hoping that the bus
was coming soon. In the distance, she hears the beeping of a
police car. She didn't worry about it. She should have. In
the morning, there was often the faint sound of an ambulance or a
police car. After several minutes of waiting, the bus still
hasn't come. It must be late or broken down, she
thought, they will send a replacement soon. The
screeching of tires disrupted her from her thoughts. A car was
flying down the fairly inhabited street. Gun shots rang out and
filled the air. She stood there shocked. The car was barreling
towards her. It swerved at the very last moment, missing her by
inches. She stumbled back, but didn't fall. Police sirens
blarred down the street. The sound of gunshots filled the air
again making scilence seem impossible. This time, she felt a
sharp increasing pain fill her chest. She heard someone scream,
it was her. She glanced down, as if in a trance. Her new school
spirit hoodie had a humongous red stain in the front, right over
her heart. She started screaming for the only other person home,
her mom. After what seemed like hours, the door bursts open. Her
mom stood in the doorway, stunned. The girl ran a fast as a dying
person could into her mother's open arms. She collapsed half
way there struggling to see her mother one last time. Her mother
scooped her up into her arms, watching her eldest daughter die in
front of her eyes. Tears pouring out of her eyes, her mother held
her innocent daughter. She whispered one last time into her
mother's ear. The neighbors watched this horrible event
happen. Some called 9-1-1, but it was too late. The rest stood
there like statues, eyes buldging out of their heads, mouths
almost touching the ground. Horrified at the scene unfolding
before them, helplessly they just stand there. The last face she
saw was her worry-stricken mother, crying for her. Thinking, why
her, why her? Why did her innocent daughter have to die like
this?