Gloaming

Poor Kenya

Cynthia's point of view
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I put my shotgun in the backseat.
I sit in the drivers seat and take a deep breath.
I'm about to rob a store.
I've never thought I'd be here in my life.
I look in the rear view mirror to see my shotgun laying on the back seat.

Senora Diaz gave me the shotgun the day before she killed her self.

I walked into my 5th period class on November 7th, a Sunday. I came to turn in a missing assignment, and she said she would be there.

She was sobbing over a picture of her family.  When I walked in joy immediately filled her body.

She pulled a shotgun out of her desk and told me to keep it. She said I was gonna need it.

I never got to turn in the extra credit.

It all happened so fast.

But she was right.

I needed it.

I started to drive to sams. I noticed how panicked the world was. People were going crazy. I saw a man get killed on the way there.

When I arrived to sams I took out my shotgun and put it in my red duffel bag.

I hung the duffel bag over my shoulder.

I handed them my membership card and I made my way inside.

Panic was everywhere.

I took all the heaters, and pretty much everything on the shopping list.

When I walked out the man asked for my receipt. I pretended like I accidentally put it in my duffel bag, when in reality I was grabbing my shotgun.

I shot him in the eye.

Everyone in the room was quiet.
I was sprinting with my cart of grocery's.

I quickly loaded them in my car and sped out of the area.

I drove for a long time. I drove wherever my thoughts took me.

Until I ran out of gas.

I was in the middle of what looked like a abandoned area.

I was lost.

All I could think about was poor Kenya and her dumb dead baby.

I loved her and I couldn't even provide her food and water.

I set up an area in my car.

Battery charged heaters everywhere.

Blankets.

Food.

I was going to die in the middle of no where.

Poor Kenya.