All it takes is one. One bullet, one mean word, one knife twisted into someones stomach; to kill someone. Here i am, bleeding out in the seemingly deserted streets of Oswego, trying to push down on the open wound right below my ribs. Whoever the guy was that shot me, he didn't even have the courtesy to shoot me in the chest. Now here i am, laying on the bumpy, ill smelling pavement of some side ally. I'm going to die here. I can already feel my muscles losing strength and the black spots that have been dancing in front of my eyes have gotten bigger. It's getting harder to breathe, it feels like the whole world is sitting on my chest as i part my lips to try and take a bigger breath. I can see the street light pouring into the ally seeming to get brighter. My life is playing in slow motion as i try to lift myself to a sitting position, as i try to drag myself across the pavement to the grey brick wall to lean against. I see my high school graduation in my mind as my arms give out and my face lands in a puddle. The water does not taste like water, the taste in my mouth is sharp and instantly makes me gag, but i can not bring myself to lift my head. My vision is getting darker, i can't see...
