Michael ran his fingers over the small, round hole in the wall. The bullet that just missed his head was lodged in there. Why do I keep doing this? Why keep fighting for this life that endangers everyone around me?
Let it go. Move on with your life.
But I can't. I can't do it. I can't walk away letting the world think I did those things. I can't live normal life with a white picket fence.
It's an addiction. I love this life. When my mother asks me why I do what I do, what can I say? She doesn't understand. I do it for the lives I can save. How big of a difference can I make, stuck here in Miami?
Why do you even start this life in the first place? To escape. What is there to escape? An abusive father. The fighting, the yelling. Watching your little brother get smacked around for just being alive. Where would I be if I hadn't left? I'd be in jail. I would be dead.
Why get myself shot in the head over a job? They all want me to walk away. But the job is becoming a part of me. I want it.
It's not something you can walk away from. You can't pretend the past didn't happen. Sometimes if you go looking for it, it comes back to haunt you. And the bullets don't always miss.
XxXxXxYes, I am going somewhere with this story. This will be explained throughout the story.
Tell me what you think! Thanks.