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?