Wrong TurnMature

Boy kills his friend after a night of drinking

     I was sitting behind bars, my head down, a night of drinking and partying seemed fun at the time, but here I was behind bars for killing my best friend, Jake. We'd been friends since seventh grade, a total of six years of friendship and having each others backs. I could feel the tears burning as they fell down my face and I knew if I ever got out of here the first thing I would do was go to Jake and I's hide out, a abandoned house in the woods, and take out the pistol that we hid underneath a loose board in the first room to the left, to end my life. This overwhelming grief that was hitting me I could not live with. Just telling my mom what I had done, let alone would be enough to drive anyone off a bridge if not to die then to inflict pain upon on themselves. My scholarships were most likely gone now and also a criminal record won't exactly look good on a job resimay. Truthfully, there was no reason to go on.


     "Derek, you get your phone call now, use it wisely." said deputy McWhirtt. Just because I made one mistake dosn't give anyone the right to think I'm stupid or inferor mistakes happen all the time, although this was a big accident, it still didn't give her the right to assume that I was at all dumb. I wanted to run over to the toilet and dunk my head in and feel the life leave my finger tips but my luck wasnt like that sombody would come in and revive me and I would go to the asylum, leading people to believe that I didn't want to go to jail, that I had acted crazy. Nobody takes anyone serious now days it is all one big fucking joke.
I was let out of my cell and lead down the dirty, murkey orange hallway that smelt strongly of blood and bleech and was handed a black corded phone. Walking down this hallway was scary seeing all the big buff people behind the bars was frightning they looked at me as if I was a gazell and they were the lion, I was fresh meat. I was barley eighteen, but I would still be tried as an adult, which means stuck with all these people. I dial my moms cell phone number, knowing she has it on her at all times, the ringing starts and it seems to take forever but in truth it only was two rings until she awnsered.
"Hello," I hear my moms voice come on sounding slightly scared.
"Hey, mom its me-"
"Where are you? You were to be home at ten o'clock its eleven thirty two!"
"Mom I'm in jail" I try to say fast so she may not hear me and also if I hadn't said it then it never would have come out.
"What? Why? What did you do!" she says her anger starting to show with every word.
"I-I-I killed Jake." I say bursting down into tears. It was embaressing and I didn't want to give her the satisfaction but I couldnt hold it in, we were best buds. My mom is silent for a while, probably crying too but wont say anything or show she is, she always acted like emotions were a weakness.
"How?" She says without any emotion I could try to read.
"I had been drinking and I ran a red light and a truck rammed into his side of the car, his airbag never went off." The memory starts to replay over and over again in my head like a broken Hannah Montana record that can't be stoped, a living torture. After a moment the truth started to sink in, I had killed my best friend, ended his life, he wasn't coming back. I heard dial tone so I knew she hung up, why is a wonder, all I could guess was she was fed up with me or she was just a bitch who needed to feel like she was in charge of everything. I hang up the phone my head down, only to look up and see a big african-american man with scars, signs of a bloody war, on his face and arms. You would think the first thing he wanted to do was beat me up but in his eyes were sympathy as if he knew what I was going threw, he did what I thought was a pat on the back and continued to walk. At first I thought I really was going crazy, and was wondering if that really happend. I felt the police officer tugging at my arm and leading me back to my cell and I knew trying to get out of this mess I was in any possible way was highly unlikely.

The End

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