My name is Max Goof. It's my second year in college, a sophomore. Right now, I'm nineteen years old. That day was the worst day in my life, and I couldn't stand it.
It was around 2 years ago. I was 17, in twelveth grade. Me and P.J, my best friend, we were just hanging out, walking through the cold, windy, dark streets at night, but before that, you know how my dad is. Strict as always, saying I could get hurt, and as always, being clumsy. I always say, "Dad, nothing'll happen to me. I'll be alright." I really didn't hate my dad, I just didn't like getting embarassed in the public.
Me and P.J stopped to see a group of gang members hanging out. I was suprised, really. I got to the point of a climax; that something really bad was going to happen. I didn't even bother to turn back. We just kept on going.
The more closer I got to them the more my temperature began to rise, and was starting to drop a sweat. I tried to hide it, because it'd make me feel nervous.
The next minute, they just stared at me, like if I had something on my face. They all looked at me, like if they were ready to pick a fight.
I'm not really into violence, but if anyone would hurt me or my friends, I'd probably fight back.
I stopped, and P.J did also, my eyes scanning across the group, attempting to find familiar faces, but it failed.
I wasn't afraid to talk, but I just had a nervous tone in my voice, and sort of stuttering. "S-Something the matter?" I said.
There was no response. About a moment later, they all walked toward us, and the first thing that came to my mind was, "Oh god no."
Once they approached me, I appeared with a nervous smile, but then it turned into a serious face. I stood straight at them, asking again. "What's the matter, Do I have something on my face?"
They ignored me, turning their attention to P.J. I had no idea what they'd do with him, but I figured it was something he was hoping not to happen.
They began to pick on him, calling him fat - fatty, alot of rude stuff. P.J was attempting to fight back, and then they too fought back - by pushing him and then they popped him in the face - yeah, a punch that was sent straight toward his jaw.
I ran in, trying to get P.J out of there by shouting. "Hey, don't abuse my buddy like that!" I said with bravery and courage.
Though that made matters worse. One of them pulled out a gun and...and...
Well, it's kinda hard to say. Just thinking about it. Alot of thoughts ran through my mind. I had no idea who I was dealing with.
I was shot in the leg, and the pain was unbearable. I yelled in pain, myself tumbling to the ground, gripping my wounded leg tightly I heard P.J crying out my name in utter fear.
The one holding the gun approached me, threatening me with it. I, myself, with my strength, tried to get up, and I just tried to run, but I couldn't. I could, but with my leg wounded it was too hard.
I saw my vision blurring and fading away, but that guy wouldn't let me go that far. He got me again, on my arm, and I fell again.
I remember both of my wounds bleeding on the sidewalk, forming a puddle of blood around me. That's when I thought; "This is it, I'm gonna die. For real this time."
I had hoped of ever surviving that night.
I don't quite remember much about what happened after that, I just blacked out, I think. And I had no idea what they did to P.J.
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Part 2 On the way - Coming soon.