Suicide Prevention

Chapter 2: Mustang Driver

Chapter 2: Mustang Driver

Mike's POV

II cannot believe what I am seeing! Is this girl really going to walk in front of that damn Mustang. Shit! I quickly did my calculations; I was about thirty yards away with about five bags of groceries in my hand which might weigh about twenty pounds, but there was no traffic from me to her, yet the sidewalk was so ragged that I might trip and fall while I was running. She looked towards the car and I could see contemplating suicide. Shit! I needed to do something quickly.

Okay I told myself then took off running. I decided to drop the groceries. I figured that the extra twenty pounds would not help my situation. I ran as fast as I could, she stepped into the street, I ran faster, the Mustang was not far away now I pounded my feet into the ground as best I could and within seconds I was close enough to dive and move her out of the way. I dove and she was heavy might I tell you. But I forced enough strength to put my arm around her waist and pushed her onto the other side of the street that was traffic free. We both hit the ground just as the Mustang passed. The driver stuck his hand out the window.

"Assholes!" She yelled then sped away.

"Fuck you Mustang owner!" I yelled. Then I looked to the girl that I was laying on top of-she was rather comfortable if you ask me. We were in an awkward position. "Are you okay?" I asked.

Suddenly I heard a car coming.

"Shit!" I quickly stood up thinking that the girl will follow, but she just laid there and I damn well knew that she heard that car coming. It was a loud as hell fucking monster truck. What was this girl's problem? "Hey!" I yelled to her. "Hey! Get up." When I realized that she was just going to lie there, I grabbed her by her waist and lifted her into my arms and ran us back in front of the small home I saw her come out of. Mind me the entire time she had this sad ass look on her face-like a sad puppy.

When we were safe, she looked up to me and smiled-at least I think it was a smile it could have easily been a look of disgust, but I think that I am going to go with a smile. She smiled. "Thank you." She said then she walked into the small home the entire time I stood there looking confused as fuck because that I exactly how I felt. I turned to see my bags right where I left them.

I went to pick them up and continued walking to my home, which is nowhere in this neighborhood. Why would it be? This is a black hood and my family is a bunch of crackers -that are also racist as hell. I come here to hang with my friends and play basketball.

They are the same friends on my basketball team at school, but they live here and go to Stance Prep on scholarship; they are very smart but overlooked because of their background and skin color. That's a fucking shame! But I do not overlook them. I see them for what they are-smart and talented. Brandon Webb could cross me and make me fall any day and Marshall Gray could win a three point contest over me any day. They were the best. They were my best friends, and the only real people I knew.

As I walked back to my Benz, the one that Brandon told me that I should never bring deep into this neighborhood, I thought about that girl. She was actually about to take a fucking dive in the front of a god damned moving car. What the hell was her problem? I thought I had a hard life with the fact that I have to follow behind my father's footsteps and become a real estate millionaire when I really wanted to become a teacher for kids of special needs, but she seemed way far off than me.

I have never even wanted to commit suicide in my entire life. I thought back to her then it hit me-she has huge and wore glasses that were mighty fucking thick. I mean how blind could you be? I bet she could see across the country with those thick ass motherfuckers

But she was so damn pretty. She had the most beautiful dimples when she smiled-at least I thought it was a smile, and she had the most pleasant hazel eyes and her hair was really long and jet black. She was stunning. So what if she was a bit on the chunky side. More cushion for the pushing? That's my motto.

"Hey cracker?" Someone called and pulled me out of my trance. I looked up to see two black thugs standing against the wall of a small corner store. They looked like the wannabes that plague this neighborhood. "What cho doin on this side of tewn? Yo type ain't welcomed here. No get to steppin," black hat demanded. Yes, I was white. He did not need to remind me of the shit.

I smiled. "Yes your high and mighty." I saluted him then spit on his shoe.

"Fucking bitch." He taped his friend on the shoulder. "Get that bitch as nigga!"

With that I took off running at full speed won the street. The groceries quickly fell from my hands. I did the math my car was about two miles away and they seemed as though weed was their best friend, and I was stealthy-they were not going to catch me. I ducked and weaved my way through the drug dealers and prostitutes. They looked at me as if they never saw a white person before.

"Clip that cracker.!" One of the men yelled and someone did, but I easily evaded his gigantic foot and ran with the speed of light. Within ten minutes I was in my car and tuning into my Rick Ross.

"Bitches...Let's get it Rick!" I began to bob my head and rap with the music. "I'm not a star,

somebody lied, I got a pistol in the car, a 45

If I'd die today, remember me like john lennon

Bury the louis, I'm talkin all brown linen

Make all of my bitches tattoo my logo on they titty

Put a statue of a nigga in the middle of the city."

I drove home with the thought of that pretty suicidal girl on my mind. I hoped that she would not attempt some shit like that again. She was too pretty and had a full life ahead of her.