July 14

By @Blackjack03
July 14

Her best friend was murdered. And it is her fault. At least that's what they want to believe.

Chapter 1

July 14

The moment I walked into school, everyone was staring at me-and they knew what I’d done. Or at least what they thought I’d done. But first, let me backup to the beginning. So this particular story starts on July 14,1 year ago. But notice how I didn’t say once upon a time. You see that’s because every once upon a time ends with a happily ever after and that’s just not how this story goes. As I was saying 1 year ago. Many, many things can happen in a year, you could win the lottery, get a new job, get married, have a baby or be accused of murder. My best friend and I were walking downtown in our city when I saw a chocolate shop I wanted to go into, but Lily, my best friend, couldn’t have sweets because of strict parents so I went in alone. When I came back outside with my big bag of chocolate Lily was gone, nowhere to be seen. I wasn’t worried though I just assumed she saw another shop she wanted to go into. 5 minutes passed. 10 minutes passed. 15 minutes passed. Still no sign of Lily. I then decided to walk around and try to find her. I all of a sudden had an urge to enter a scary looking alley. I walked down to the end of the alley to look behind the dumpster. I had no idea why though. I gasped in horror. She was just lying there. Dead. I immediately called 911 sobbing so hard I’m still surprised they managed to find me. When the police finally showed up they gave me a look. A Little-white-girl-was-murder-in-an-alley-and-a-black-girl-was-the-only-one-around look. And no matter how many laws are passed I still get looks like that and I always will. The police investigated the crime scene a little bit but found no evidence of who or what slit her throat. When it was time to break the news to her parents they were devastated. But here is another little fact about my life: my dad is a huge Black Lives Matter activist and he has been since my mother was the victim of a drive by shooting when I was little. Now my dad has said some horrible things about the mayor of our city who is no other than Lily’s mom. All of which were true of course, but still horrible. So basically Lily’s mom didn’t like me to begin with because of my skin but because of my dad she really didn’t like me. So when we told Lily’s parents the news I could tell they thought I did something. I would have liked to believe that her parents were just fragile at the time and wanted someone to blame but deep down I knew the truth: they are not fragile. They believed I murdered their daughter, my best friend. After that I had some court cases thrown at me with the most bogus evidence I have ever seen. So many people wanted me to go to jail for being innocent but it wasn’t going to happen. Or so I believed. But then one night I was getting ready to go to bed when police sirens and lights engulfed my house. I was handcuffed and taken to jail. I had a trial where they presented the most horrible and unbelievable evidence of me being a murderer. Of course though people believed it. I got a prison sentence of life. Looking on the bright side though I was able to continue going to school. But the moment I walked into school, everyone was staring at me-and they knew what I’d done. Or what they thought I’d done. That’s when the realization hit me like a bus while I was staring back at the kids: I am never going to live my life. I am never going to do what I was destined to do with it. I am never going to find true love. I am never going to spend hours trying to find the perfect wedding dress.I am never going to be walked down the aisle of my wedding by my father. I am never going to have kids that I love more than anything. I am never going to experience all the ups and downs of motherhood. I am never going to grow old with the person I love. I am never going to cry at my child’s wedding. I am never going to be a grandma. I am never going to be proud of myself for my first job.I am never going to make the world a better place.I am never going to do any of it. All because of my skin color. Before I go though, I never did tell you what year this story takes place. Yes I told you July 14. But that’s not really important but I will tell you a number that is: 3020. I am here, in handcuffs with my life taken away, because the people before me never fixed racism. And I don’t believe they ever truly tried.

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