Blocks Away
Photo by Wadi Lissa on Unsplash I ran for blocks. She’s the heaviest thing I ever carried. Cold, scared, crying…my little sister was going to die if I didn’t do anything. I’ve tried carrying her in my arms, which didn’t let me move as fast I wanted to. I stopped, and heaved her on one shoulder, but she kept making this gulping sound that made everything sound worst. I couldn’t think of how to carry her with the wound, because she won’t make it if we stay here. I settle for laying her behind my neck. The streets were empty. Typically, whenever a shot is fired, everybody clears out. Nobody wants trouble and nobody wants the blame of who was shot and what was hit. I figure I have a little leeway because I’m trying to be responsible. Fourteen years old, and I’m the only one being accountable My dad blames the government. My mom blames people who look like us. I blame myself. I should have convinced my sister to hurry up. She had new chalk she wanted to try out. She