As I ran down the dark road at midnight, I had only one thing one my mind: Johnny Cade's death. It wasn't like I had never experienced death before; when I was four years old, my mother died. This left only my dad to raise me. My Dad isn't what you'd call close family. He's the kind of guy who cares about absolutely no one but himself. I could steal the world's biggest freakin' diamond for cryin' out loud and he wouldn't care. Things began to change for me when I met the Curtis family.
Darrel Sr. was like a father figure for me. He tried to help me to grow up to become a respectable man like himself and not just another hood. Margaret Curtis was like a second mom. She hugged me when I felt just plain sad. She fed who needed to be fed, even if the Curtis didn't have a lot of money. She let just about anyone who needed a place to stay spend the night. Most importantly, she was there if anyone needed to talk. I remember countless times when she and I would talk about my mom even though I never talked about her with anyone else. When they died, I almost couldn't take it, but I knew Johnny was there.
Johnny wasn't only there for me. He was there for all of us, even during the tough times. He'd listen if you had a problem and he would stay with you if you didn't feel like being alone. We also cared about him. I wanted to kill Johnny's dad when beat the crap out of Johnny. I also wanted to murder his mother when she yelled at him for just about everything under the sun. I kept it in though because I knew how Johnny felt. Although his parents didn't give a crap about him, he still loved them. I felt the same way about my dad. Maybe that's why we could connect so well. When Johnny died, I felt myself begin to drown in pain. I had lost the only person who I could truly connect with. I had lost the only person that I ever loved. I heard voices behind me yell:
"Hey kid, get back here!"
It was a cop.
"You're under arrest for attempting to flee the scene of the crime!" another cop shouted.
I stopped, turned around, and fired the unloaded heater I was carrying. A loud bang sounded. I could hear my friends shouting at the police, trying to tell them the heater wasn't loaded. Their attempts in vain, I turned around, opened my arms and let the bullets sail through me. I collapsed to the ground and died the death of a violent hood.