I went to see her in the hospital today,the bullet is lodged in her leg, and she might have bled to death if I hadn't taken health in 8th grade. I'm glad I took that advice. The doctors said it hit her bone, and shattered it. I fell to the ground, she was lucky, they said. I wanted to scream at them, "Lucky? Lucky as in poor, ill, broken, and having to take care of me on the way?" It was a mouthful of words though, and I couldn't even say one at the moment. I felt like staying in the hospital all night, but I had to go on stage and put on a happy smile, I guess those tears streaming down my face were supposed to be happy too. No one knows me, my family, and they don't know what goes on. I think they see me as a loner, but I am a loner. I want to be alone, with my mom's cat, and my new dog.
My mom. Her car, it was outside, I don't remember being in the car, but I remember seeing it, in pictures, outside my school, I can still smell the pine from the air freshener. The car is torture, though, torture because I was so happy to see it, until the bullet came shooting out of it.