The Day of My Shooting Part 2

Pop!  I was so scared, I didn’t know what happened.  All I could feel was the burning in my legs and the strength of my arms holding me up from hell.  I knew it, I was going, and I was gone.  For some reason, God had let me down, I was going to hell.  Was it that candy I stole from the penny store, or my neglecting to pray?  I can remember imagining my legs hanging through the floor, and trying not to let the fire reach them.  I had to hold myself up with my tiny arms as best as I could.  My knuckles were whitely tight and my very soul was escaping.  “God forgive me, God forgive me” is what I was whispering to myself when my sister Kim ran into the room. 

The look on my sister’s face as she saw the devastation of the situation will never be forgotten.  Kim picked me up, spun around to see where he was at, and lunged for the door.  It felt like home was miles away when blood is running down your pink Oshkosh pants.  I faded in and out on our way home.  It was brighter outside, that of joy, relief; I was no longer in hell.  My sister, the very hero of my days; was carrying me towards the light.  She refused to let the devil have me.  I was her baby sister, a child of God.  Surely God sent her for me; surely he remembered who Sharina was.