Whenever I thought about my death, I always pictured me, old and wrinkled, lying in a hospital bed surrounded by friends and family. I never pictured what was happening now. I’m lying on the side of the road, alone, cold, bleeding. I’ve never been so scared in my life.
My life is flashing before my eyes, just like in those lame movies... only this isn’t some Hollywood fantasy. It’s real life. The reality of my situation comes crashing down. I’ve never been so scared. In my mind’s eye I can see my friends, my family, my teachers... will they miss me when I’m gone? I hope no one forgets me.
I was always an outgoing girl - the first to welcome the new kids, the first to try new things. That’s what got me into this mess in the first place. That’s why I’m dying. I just had to agree to meet with that new kid. I have no one to blame but myself, I guess. Though it would make me feel better to blame him.
I try to move my arms and the pain is so bad that I cry out. Hysteria is starting to overwhelm me. I don’t want to die. I want to see my sister grow up! I want to grow up myself, maybe get married and have some children. I don’t want to die because dying is for the old, not young people like me. But.. if this is true, then why did little Jimmy Alsaint die of cancer last summer? Death doesn’t care who you are, or how old you may be.
I took my life for granted. I was wild, I pushed the limits. I went to dangerous places with people I didn’t know. I drank, I smoked stuff I shouldn’t have. But hey, it’s all a part of being a teenager, right? Well, I never realized that all of this “part of being a teenager” would kill me. Maybe if I had been more cautious, I wouldn’t be lying in a puddle of my own blood, the crimson liquid staining my blonde hair and my white shirt.
Dear God... please give me another chance. I’ll be good and I’ll appreciate my life. I don’t want to die like this! Even if you won’t save me, please send someone my way. I don’t want to be alone. That’s the worse part of all... knowing that I’ll be alone when I leave this world.
My whole body is going numb. My vision is starting to blur. All I can think of is how sad my mother will be when she finds out what happened. Her baby girl, shot to death on an old, rarely used, dirt road. How long before they find me? A day? A week? A month, perhaps? How many tears will have fallen before my family gets some piece of mind?
Momma, don’t cry. Don’t be sad. Don’t blame yourself. It’s my fault, it always was my fault. I didn’t mean to keep getting into trouble... trouble just sorta followed me around. I always loved you, and I always wanted to make you happy, though it probably didn’t seem that way. I wanted you to be at my wedding, and to be at the hospital when I had my first baby.... but those things will never happen now.
What will they tell little Brigit Marks, the girl down the street who I baby-sit on weekends? How does one explain to a four year old that their baby-sitter is dead? Will they use the tired and worn out “she’s with the Angels”? Am I even going to make it into Heaven? I went to Church every Sunday, I did my best to follow the Ten Commandments... but was it enough? I don’t know and that scares me.
My head is getting light and what little I could see earlier has faded. This is it. Good-bye world. I didn’t know how lucky I was to be here until I was taken away.
I close my eyes and the darkness engulfs me. I surrender, and it’s over.
Jae Stratford
1980-1999