"Damn, how am I gonna get out of this situation?" I thought.

I'm more than sure she hadn't come to invite me to a tea party, but I kept my hopes high. She was actually looking for me to say something. My house was in eye sight. I could make it but, how long could I run? I definitely couldn't run the whole school year. She would eventually catch me. Staying was the final plan. Just as I found the courage to speak she pulled out a three inch knife. It sent tiny spotlights around from the reflection of the sun. What oxygen I had in my system left with the sight of that knife. She came toward me waiting for my next move. She came toward me waiting for my next move. She suddenly charged with the knife at her side. I knew what to do, dip low and try to scoop her at the knees and attempt to throw her tall ass over my back. Would that work? It always did in the movies. BAMM! Lesha's body hit the ground behind. The knife she held nearly sliced my face open as she flew over my head. What next, now that I had angered the bull even more? I quickly turned around to see her attempting to recover. I saw something else twinkle in my peripheral. A chunk of glass sat only a foot away from me. I picked it up thinking this fight was already unfair with her knife advantage. As she finally made it to her feet I was right by her with the glass and some new found confidence. I was prepared, adrenaline pumping and glass tight in my fist. I charged before she could. I sliced at everything I saw. Unleashing anger I never knew I had. First her arm then her chest, I didn't discriminate. I thought of all the times people, even family, ridiculed me for being mixed. I did it with the thoughts of stares and angry people who didn't like me for how I looked. I couldn't control myself. I didn't know how long I'd been slicing and cutting. I wanted to stop but I couldn't. I continued until her white designer shirt was almost completely red. Her screams took me out of my own mental cage.

I stopped glass still clinched tightly in my right hand. It felt like I had taught a misbehaved child a lesson. But it wasn't, this was much worst. As Freud would say, my "superego" was coming back. Lesha squirmed on the ground in front of me lashing her arms around her body. She attempted to cover her wounds, there were so many. The top of her jeans appeared black from the blood. I heard gasps from the car. I had forgotten that her friends were there. Would they do to me what I had done to her? They sat glued to their seats. Their eyes were wide with shock and disbelief. The girl who sat in the front seat jumped out and ran toward me. "Oh god, please don't let her hit me", I thought. She ran passed me and to the side of her wounded comrade. She held the same face of shock but this slowly turned to fear.

I ran as fast as I found to my house. I knew the door was open because my mom knew I lost my keys. I ran through the hall and stopped to breath. The oxygen felt so good and pure at this moment. I can imagine myself as a baby taking its first breath. My body felt hot. I couldn't think of what to do. I turned around to lock the door when I saw a trail of blood leading from it. I felt a sharp pain all over. Lesha must've stabbed me. I felt a sharp pain up my arm that ran to my hand. I was still holding the glass tight in my hand. Blood was trickling down to the white tile to form a puddle of my DNA. I let it go instantly to find a cut running from the start of my hand to the base of my index finger. I used my other hand to apply pressure to the wound, remembering what I had learned in my First Aid and CPR class. I ran to my small kitchen to run the cool water over my throbbing wound. I feared an infection. Lord knows where that glass had been before it made its resting place in the grass. I got a dish rag out of the drawer and continued to apply pressure. I remembered to breathe again. What had I done? The cops were likely on their way now. What would I say to them? I went to my room and quickly changed into my basketball shorts and tank top. I got a sponge from the kitchen and cleaned up my trail of blood in an attempt to leave no trace. I sat at the kitchen table contemplating an alibi. I was washing the dishes and cut my hand on a knife. Yea that would work. I was in mid thought of a lie when the door bell rung. The cops had made it before I thought they would. It could've have been Lesha's friends coming back to avenge her. I ran to the door waiting to hear voices. There were none. They weren't gonna fool me. I ran to the kitchen to get a knife. Back at the door, I waited. This would be the perfect time for my house to have a peephole. I waited still intently listening for any sound. I jumped. The door bell had rung again. This time I was ready. Knife in hand, mind ready for the worst, I opened the door.