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Rated: 13+ · Essay · Crime/Gangster · #1700932
This is an essay on what happened to me in April of 2010.
The worst thing that has ever happened to me changed my life drastrically. So drastically it can almost be compared to the changes a caterpillar goes through to become that beautiful winged creature we call a butterfly.

It started on a gorgeous spring day. Birds were singing, kids were laughing and playing, and you can smell the sharp, pungent odor caused by the freshly cut grass that was flying freely through the air. The only thing running through my mind was that nothing could go wrong on a beautfiul day like this. I so often wish I would feel this way, but I rarely do. I seldom get to experience this, considering im normally busy cleaning and cooking for my grandparents. Who never appreciate anything I do for them. I should have known that with this feeling, something was going to come along and end it abruptly. But, I decided to just not think about that, and make the most with what time I had.

But, dont get me wrong, it wasnt all bad. When I cooked breakfast for everyone, the smell of sausage and bacon was so inviting, and my mouth watered from the aroma of it. I can only imagine what it would be like to wake up to that savory aroma, but imagining it was as close as I would ever get to that delightful sensation.

After I had served everyone, myself included, I went on to do the dishes. The rushing sound of runing water, along with the clinking of the pots and pans I was washing mixed with the sound of laughter coming from the living room, where my grandparents gather to watch reruns of "I love Lucy" on the television, which somehow never seem to get old or boring.

So, finally, all my chores were done, and I was free to gander the neighborhood. I went to my front yard and just let myself fall down onto the warm, sun drenched grass. I layed there for what seemed like eternity just gazing at the clouds in the sky. I had flashbacks of all those wonderful times I would have, lying in the grass with my four little brothers and tell stories depicting all the shapes (and charectors) that made up the clouds. I found myself smiling and reminecing on all the great memorable times I had with my brothers, before I had to depart and move to my grandma's house. Then, that same sense of sorrow and longing to see them, I had felt for three years now came creeping back. Like a baby sea turtle creeps along the shore of a beach after birth. I closed my eyes and began to replay the years I had spent with my brothers, but I was suddenly interrupted by the shrill scream of my grandmother pulling me out of my thoughts.

At that moment, I knew it was time to go to the store. Oh how I always dreaded going to town. That meant dealign with the uncomfortable and worried people, mothers rushing for Pediasure for their child, small children arguing over who gets what Lunchable. It was always the same, getting rushed and hurried along, and spending hours filling our cart with food that we were panicked to get. Yet, its ironic, how with as many hours we spent in the grocery store, we could never get any kind of food that I want. It was always, "We will get it for you later.", but later never came.

On the way home from the countless hours in town, I got into an arguement with my grandmother. She had a habit of accusing me of things that I could not have possibly done. For example, she had grounded me for six months from television and music for calling my mother. When, in all reality, I hadn't talked to my mother in months, and didn't even know her number. That sort of thing happened all the time. Anyway, when we finally arrived at our house, I got out of the car and immediately got slapped by my grandpa. He said that the reason for it was I had been smarting off to my grandmother. (Which I often done whenever I got falsely accused.) I stormed into the house, and sat down in a comfortable office chair.

Later on that night, after I had done the dishes, I was sitting by my grandmother. She was talking about some crap lawsuit, in which she "fell" at Buchheit (a store in Jackson, Missouri that is similar to Home Depot). She wanted me to testify for her so she could get some money out of them. When I refused, my grandfather told me to shut up, and me, being a rebel teenager, decided to say make me. The next thing I know, I feel a sharp pain radieating across my face and mouth. This may come as a shock to you, but what happened was my grandfather had punched me in the mouth.

I felt something wet on my chin, and when I put my tounge on it, it tasted sort of metally. So I ran to the bathroom. My lip had already begun to swell, and where it was bleeding, it looked like someone had put a golf ball in my lip. My grandmother threw a rag at me, and told me to quit crying and wipe up all the blood. I did as I was told, and got locked in my room (which happened every night). With my head full of fear, I started to plan my escape.

I wasn't sure what I would do or where I would go, but I knew I could not stay there. At midnight as a storm raged outside, I hurriedly packed my Michael Jackson tote, broke out my window, and ran away. As soon as I hit the ground, I felt the icy cold rain water and chilly breeze wrap around my body. I started running, with tears streaming down my face and my lip constantly, painfully throbbing. I continued on for hours, relentlessly in the thunderstorm, and finally made it to Southeast Missouri Hospital. I had went about fifteen miles. I stayed in different waiting rooms throughout the hospital for three days. I didn't eat or sleep much at all. An Amber Alert was put out for me, and the cops got called.

Determined not to get cought, I ran past security, down the parking lot, and I darted across the street. The moment I saw the three cop cars, I was terrified! I didnt want to go to Juvenille Detention. When, they got out of the sqad cars, they ordered me not to move. It took a few seconds for me to realize the position I was it, and I took off running away from the cops. They chased me down, and I assaulted the cop who cought me. The other two officers slammed me into the ground, and handcuffed me.

I wanted to cry so bad, but I stayed strong so I wouldn't look weak in front of the police. When they got me to the Juvenille Detention center, they tested me for drugs, pregnacy, and STD's. They let me take a shower, and put on the black and white jump suit. I had to explain the scars from where I cut myself, and they thought I was suicidal. I got sent to Wentzville, a adolecent behaviorial center near St. Louis, Missouri. I stayed there for nine days, and then my mom picked me up, and brought me down here.

While, its true that that is the worst thing that has ever happened to me, it has also benefited me in many, many ways. For example, since that happened, I reconciled with my mother. Which is something I had wanted for three years. I also learned a lesson from that event; Its going to get a lot worse before it gets better. All in all, im glad it happened.

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