I didn’t have anything to give him. He was obviously on crack or something.
“What the fuck you mean you ain’t got no cash, motherfucker?”
I pissed my pants. Shit.
“You don’t even deserve life!”
Didn’t I? Maybe I didn’t. The warm drip down my leg was already starting to cool.
“Say your prayers, motherfucker. Say goodbye!”
As he spoke his words slowed down. Like in a cheesy action movie, his voice became lower and he seemed to move in slowmotion. I felt like I could just duck or something, but I was like a deer caught in the headlights. Frozen to the spot. I could feel the tears streaming down my face, but I didn’t feel that relief you get from crying.
He pulled the trigger and the bullet left the muzzle, flying towards me, in superslowmotion or something. I was still frozen.
Maybe he was right. Maybe I didn’t deserve life.
I started to think about all the things I’d wish I had done differently. The first thing that came to my mind was that I wish I had kissed Betty Smith back in highschool. Why didn’t I?