Execution
005
April 30;CA
I walked through the woods along train tracks, stepping over large branches that had fallen from the storm the night before. In the past two weeks, I had lost a lot of weight from not eating and constant running from cars and people.
I clutched my stomach, playing reruns through my head of Trenton's story. He was seven years old, and was a smart kid, but he didn't know the amount of trouble he got me into. I didn't blame him, though. He didn't know what he was saying, and the police will piece together whatever information they have to explain whatever happened. If I had been there, I could have said something. The fact that I had left the scene with a limp mother and a dad with a knife through his spine probably didn't help. Not to mention I should have called the police as soon as something happened.
I cried now as I clutched the front of my shirt and pulled my hair. I was wanted. I hadn't had human contact in two weeks for fear that anybody, even my best friends, would turn me in. Dirt was all over my neck and every part of me was soaked with cold rainwater from the night before.
I couldn't go back now. Ever. A life of suspicion and hardships was the only direction now.
The tracks brought me to a rusty bridge over a river. The river was far below, and it was calm. The bridge was long and peaceful, and it welcomed me. I walked along it, the adrenaline pushing me forward and making me forget all about my discomfort. When I got to the middle of it, I lay down and listened to the sounds of the many train whistles that came through the area. The metal of the tracks had gathered sun, and it warmed my back and eased my shaking from the cold.
I thought back to Trenton when he rode his first train, how his face lit up from the magic of it. I could almost hear the whistles now.
I sat up to hear a train's breaks screeching and to see the big, black engine a football field away. They saw me, and they were trying to stop the train. I sat in fear as the train turned the corner, and the scene began in slow motion.
The left wheels came off the track and the heavyness began to make the engine fall towards the water. Many cars trailed behind the engine, and they followed the first car into the calm, shallow waters of the river below.
I stayed frozen in place until I was knocked sideways by a large amount of force. I went back first into the river, my mouth filling with musty water, and I hoped I had just got hit by the train and I was drowning along with it.
Unfortunatly my lungs were filled air again as strong arms carried me through water reeds and laid me in the mud. The scene continued.
"What the hell are you thinking?!" a deep, rhaspy voice rang in my ears. I opened my eyes to see my hero. It was a middle aged man with an unruly, grey beard. He looked over his shoulder and watched in terror as parts of the train piled on top of eachother. "Oh my God." He closed his eyes, trying to block the trajedy I had caused out of his mind. He looked at me again. "What the hell were you thinking?" He continued to mumble to himself as screams came from the train and banging was heard through windows in passenger cars.
"I didn't--I didn't know what I was doing.
The man began to cry as he stood up in the direction of the wreck. "The hell you didn't. There's people on that train!"
"Get out of here." I cried along with him, my sobs barely audible over the screeching and screaming in front of us.
I got to my feet and he grabbed me and pushed me in the opposite direction of the train. I ran, not daring to look behind me at the chaos of my suicide attempt.
Crime Punishable by Death: Willfully Causing a Train Wreck.
I walked through the woods along train tracks, stepping over large branches that had fallen from the storm the night before. In the past two weeks, I had lost a lot of weight from not eating and constant running from cars and people.
I clutched my stomach, playing reruns through my head of Trenton's story. He was seven years old, and was a smart kid, but he didn't know the amount of trouble he got me into. I didn't blame him, though. He didn't know what he was saying, and the police will piece together whatever information they have to explain whatever happened. If I had been there, I could have said something. The fact that I had left the scene with a limp mother and a dad with a knife through his spine probably didn't help. Not to mention I should have called the police as soon as something happened.
I cried now as I clutched the front of my shirt and pulled my hair. I was wanted. I hadn't had human contact in two weeks for fear that anybody, even my best friends, would turn me in. Dirt was all over my neck and every part of me was soaked with cold rainwater from the night before.
I couldn't go back now. Ever. A life of suspicion and hardships was the only direction now.
The tracks brought me to a rusty bridge over a river. The river was far below, and it was calm. The bridge was long and peaceful, and it welcomed me. I walked along it, the adrenaline pushing me forward and making me forget all about my discomfort. When I got to the middle of it, I lay down and listened to the sounds of the many train whistles that came through the area. The metal of the tracks had gathered sun, and it warmed my back and eased my shaking from the cold.
I thought back to Trenton when he rode his first train, how his face lit up from the magic of it. I could almost hear the whistles now.
I sat up to hear a train's breaks screeching and to see the big, black engine a football field away. They saw me, and they were trying to stop the train. I sat in fear as the train turned the corner, and the scene began in slow motion.
The left wheels came off the track and the heavyness began to make the engine fall towards the water. Many cars trailed behind the engine, and they followed the first car into the calm, shallow waters of the river below.
I stayed frozen in place until I was knocked sideways by a large amount of force. I went back first into the river, my mouth filling with musty water, and I hoped I had just got hit by the train and I was drowning along with it.
Unfortunatly my lungs were filled air again as strong arms carried me through water reeds and laid me in the mud. The scene continued.
"What the hell are you thinking?!" a deep, rhaspy voice rang in my ears. I opened my eyes to see my hero. It was a middle aged man with an unruly, grey beard. He looked over his shoulder and watched in terror as parts of the train piled on top of eachother. "Oh my God." He closed his eyes, trying to block the trajedy I had caused out of his mind. He looked at me again. "What the hell were you thinking?" He continued to mumble to himself as screams came from the train and banging was heard through windows in passenger cars.
"I didn't--I didn't know what I was doing.
The man began to cry as he stood up in the direction of the wreck. "The hell you didn't. There's people on that train!"
"Get out of here." I cried along with him, my sobs barely audible over the screeching and screaming in front of us.
I got to my feet and he grabbed me and pushed me in the opposite direction of the train. I ran, not daring to look behind me at the chaos of my suicide attempt.
Crime Punishable by Death: Willfully Causing a Train Wreck.