Excerpt
Nothing could prepare me for what
happened next—the escalating
sound of gunshots and screams
could be heard throughout the house. I
started running in the opposite direction
of the gunfire. My only thought was to try
to get the hell out there as fast as
possible. But, before I could make it to the
door, I felt an intense burning sensation.
My back felt as if someone had taken a
blow torch to it. I fell face forward on the
floor.
I lay there with tears streaming down
my face; I couldn’t move. I felt as if a ton
of bricks were stacked on top of my back. I
could hear footsteps, coming closer and
closer—a woman’s footstep; I could tell by
the heels tapping on the floor. I lay there,
pretending to be dead.
As she walked around me, saying, “You
little bitch,” I could hear sirens in the
N
6 Gwen Cannon
distance; someone must have heard the
commotion and called the police. Please,
Lord, hurry up, and let this bitch go on her
way; I don’t want to die. It felt like hours,
but I knew it only had been seconds
stretching into minutes.
My back was soaking wet; I knew it was
from my blood. How much was I losing? I
didn’t have a clue. I started feeling cold; I
was losing consciousness.
As I lay there on the floor, I thought of
all the shit I had tucked away in my
closet, deep dark secrets no one even
knew.