My heart was racing, eyes darting from one mirror to the other. Nothing. Down to the clock, 1:10. Blackness swallowed my car and everything around me. I felt the cold sweat run from the back of my head all the way down my back. More sweat dripped on my forehead. I thought to myself what was I so nervous about? I saw a car in the distance, I felt my breathing slowly come to a halt. The car took what felt like an eternity to pass. “Who would be out so late?” I asked myself out loud.

As the car finally approached I felt as if the car's headlights were staring into my soul.  As the car finally passed I looked over, white Honda Accord. I cursed to myself, I needed to calm down… all this stress is going to be for nothing. I was also excited. It was the first time I was out on my own. Just me, I controlled my actions which was both a good and bad thing. The nerves came back, I could feel myself start to sweat again.To cool down, I rolled the windows down, now the inside of the car was one with the darkness outside. Highway 57 felt especially empty at this moment of time, I felt as if I was the only one in the U.S on a roadway. For once that night I felt at peace, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I instantly slapped myself, “what are you doing? Closing your eyes while driving, you’re an idiot.” I got really used to talking to myself.

Ever since I was young I was left by myself a lot, so I had to make friends within myself, and I guess I never grew out of it. Now you might be wondering what I was doing at 1:30 in the morning on a cold, wet March 12th. I was headed back from kankakee, doing my weekly runs down south as everyone calls it. Now as I said earlier, this is my first time doing this by myself. Previously, I had a mentor, his name was Dayvon, which was the head honcho. It always puzzled me why he trained me, but he always told me that he saw I was different. He sadly is not with us anymore, so I guess you could say I still do this for him. The drive from the “O” to Kankakee was only a 50 minute drive, but I typically get it done in about 40 minutes or so. When I’m talking about doing runs I'm not talking about going out on a nice Sunday stroll on a sidewalk, I’m talking about drug running. I have been in training for the last 3 months, so being by myself felt like a privilege. I get to keep 15% on all sales. I wouldn’t say that I'm proud of what I do. Not at all actually. When I think about it, I'm selling drugs to somebody's family members. I know what I do is destroying families, but somehow, I can’t stop. It’s what I have to do to provide for my mom and sisters. Where I'm from, this is what people do. I was born for this lifestyle. My dad did it and so did his before him. My teachers growing up at Dulles were all trappers when they went home. I was meant to do this, it almost felt natural. I have been involved in this lifestyle from a very early age. My dad taught me when I was eight how to scratch out a serial number on a gun and how to break into cars. I have been immersed into the culture and now it's time for me to shine. But it's what I have to do to provide for my family, so I'm not complaining. I almost forgot to introduce myself, my name’s D’Lo, well that's what everyone calls me, my real name is Deanglo. I have lived in Chicago my whole life. I am from a well known neighborhood called Parkway Gardens, but most everyone knows it as OBlock. Notable figures that came from the neighborhood are King von, which I was close friends with. Michelle Obama and Chief Keef. Those are some famous examples of people that made it out, but many of us don’t. We get involved in a gang and never get out. Many of us won’t see the age of 21, and that fact scares me. But I am going to try and change that.

Anyways. Back to that cold February night. Headed back from Kankakee, my lights were still darting across the highway. I technically didn’t have anything illegal on me, all I had was fifty five thousand dollars in cash in my center console. I was feeling good, music blaring, windows down to cool myself down, and then it struck. My lights hit a car sitting in the median. There it was I thought to myself, I’m done. Just as soon as I start, my time is coming to an end. The car, a Dodge Charger with the big gold stripe reading State Police. 

My heart dropped, I cursed at myself out loud. I look down at the speedometer, 77. I look up and there go the lights and he pulls out, but goes the opposite direction, Southbound. How odd I thought to myself, but I just put my head down and kept driving. 

Not but 2 minutes later, those police lights showed up right behind me. I had already accepted my fate. I pull my car over, and get all my papers out of my crowded glove box. I turn my lights on and look back into my mirrors. I see an older gentleman getting his things in order,and putting on his hat. He walks closer and closer to the passenger side of my car. “Good morning” he says with a slight smirk. I tried not to show it but I was about to come out of my shell. I mirror him and exclaim how nice the weather is outside. He laughs and asks for my license and registration. I hand it over and he walks back to his car. At this point I have mixed emotions because he seemed nice, but I still knew that this is a cop and he could expose me. He walks back to my car. This time on the drivers side, and hands me back my information. Along with it was a white sheet of paper that across the top read “WARNING NOTICE” I instantly felt relieved because 1, I didn't need to pay a ticket and 2) I wasn’t going to jail. He looks at me and asks what I’m doing out so late. I told him that I was on my way home, and we just had a slight family emergency. That seemed to be a good enough reason because he seemed pretty satisfied with that answer. He nodded and started walking away, he stopped, looked back and said “Nice car” and winked. He climbed back into his white cruiser and headed on his way.

I sat there in my car for a good 10 minutes. With a cold face, on the side of this empty highway. “Wow” I exclaimed in between heavy breaths. I was in utter shock. I could have been done for. I could be spending my life in jail if he caught me going into Kankakee, but for some odd reason that I can’t explain, I was spared. I slowly pressed down the gas pedal and started on my way for the second time that night. 1:58 was the time. Only 48 minutes have passed since I started on my way and my view on life has completely changed. 

I was driving Northbound going 65 in a 70, I have never driven so careful in my life. This is the first time in my life that I truly started to think about how my actions have serious consequences, and that I am not an exception to the rules. I pulled into the parking lot off of 64th. I stepped out of my car to the striking cold air. It was a little after two in the morning, but there was an unusual amount of people outside.

I was skeptical when I saw my friend Bryson run up to me, it made me a little nervous the way everyone was acting when I stepped out of the car, but I shrugged it off. In the neighborhood, everyones eyeing everyone down, every move is watched and you have to be very strategic on the way you move. If you’re not careful, it could end up fatal. Anyways, Bryson ran over to me. He came right up to me, full sprint, and then a sudden halt. D’Lo he said, at this point he was right next to my ear, “you’re going to want to go inside, and sit down.”

 The look on his face is one I will never forget. It was mixed with fear and panic, while looking sad at the same time. We get to the front of the building. I knew what was coming. My Dad always compared life to a game of chess. When you play the game long enough, you're going to eventually lose some pieces. We went inside and the receptionist nodded to both of us. Even she looked sad. We went over the the empty, dirty stairway, it hadn't been cleaned in years and it showed. With each step my mind stated racing even more, “what did he want”, 3, “what happened” 4, “Who Died?” 5. I stopped right in my tracks. I had played the game long enough to see the people closest to me die, but It was never brought up in this manner. We get to the fifth floor. I get my lanyard out of my pocket, and reach for my house keys. As I was rambling through them, I dropped them on the floor. I reach down to pick them up, and Bryson looks at me with an empathetic look. I grab my keys and slam the key into the door. I open the door, and Bryson follows me into my living room. As we passed the kitchen, I thought about how hungary I was, but at the same time, the anticipation was nauseating.

I sit down on my couch, the left side, always where I sat. I felt my mouth start to get parched. Bryson sat down across from me and started. 

“D’Lo, when you are gone.” He stopped, and got a little choked up. “When you were gone, umm, umm, your brother Chopp, was killed.” The world started spinning. I looked at Bryson. “Why lie to me.” I said through the tears. I knew he wasn’t, but it was the only thing that was going to make me feel better. “ I’m so sorry D’Lo.” I started screaming at him on why It took him so long to tell me. Why I was the last to know. Bryson stood up and looked at me. “D’Lo, I just tried to protect you.” “Get out of my house!.” I screamed at him. He gathered his things and opened the door. “I’m sorry D’Lo” He said in a soft voice. 

I gathered the energy to get off the couch, and made my way to the bedroom. With every step, I felt as if my walking was forced. I collapsed on the bed. I felt the tears fall from my eyes, down my nose and onto the pillow. “Why me” I exclaimed out loud, “Why is this happening to me, what did I do to deserve this?” I sat there and cried for hours, eventually falling asleep from exhaustion, both mental and physical. 

Since Mom and Dad aren't here anymore, I was the only one who could confirm that It was really him, so I made my way down to the corner. I hesitated going inside, I couldn’t get myself to do it. I sat in my car, eyes staring straight ahead. I could hear my breathing, this was the first time I had to do this since my mom had to do it for my dad. It hurt, I’m not going to lie, but I knew I was the only one that would be allowed to do it. I slowly opened my door. I stepped onto the lightly snow dusted asphalt parking lot. Every step I took was heavy. I approached the double doors at the entrance, which slid open automatically. I stopped right before I walked in, and turned back to look into the parking lot. Just then a white van pulled into the lot, across the van spelled out in large black letters “CORNER” I felt my heart drop. I looked up into the sky and asked why, to which I got no reply. 

I started back into the large  concrete building. I was met by a nice receptionist who asked if I needed any assistance. I looked down at her and asked in a slow deep whisper “Where do I go to identify a body.” As I asked the question, I felt myself get goosebumps. I hated that word, the thought of it no longer being a person scared me. She looked back at me in a sympathetic way, “all the way down the hall, last door on your right.” I thanked her and got on my way. The corridor felt and looked like it went on forever. The solid oak doors, there were so many doors. Many of them had windows and they were just offices…All until I hit the last door. A big, white door, across it “MORGUE”.

 I felt my stomach drop. I knowed a weak, slow knock. I met a man in a lab coat. Hello, he said with a smile. “What could somebody be smiling about?” I thought to myself. I looked at him with a cold face. “I…I have to identify my brother.” I said, stumbling over myself. Oh, he said with a slight frown. He asked for the name “ Dayvon” I said. All right, the man said. He offered me inside the room to which I refused, but then soon changed my mind. I walked in and got hit with a pungent smell. It smelled like rotting meat along with a hint of fruit. To my right there was a wall with just metal doors with a small handle. He walked over to one of the metal lockers, and looked at the tag. 

He nods and gives the handle a pull. Out comes a metal tray with a lump on it. The lump was covered by a white cloth. I slowly stand up from the seat and walk even slower. I now stood over this lifeless body. The man pulled back the white sheet and there he was. My brother, the one I grew up with, protected me. All the nights we spent talking to each other about our problems. All the weekends were spent playing video games. All the memories came flooding back. I took a quick glance then nodded to the man. He looked at me and then covered him up with the sheet. I thanked him and made my way out of the room. I started my trip back down that long corridor. I found myself speed walking. I wanted out of that building. It was a place I never wanted to go back to. I was almost at a slight jog. I started getting mad. I was done asking why, I wanted revenge. I took a left at the end of the hallway and saw that nice receptionist, I stormed past her desk, so much so that she looked up. I shoulder checked those automatic doors as I walked out. I didn’t feel anything.

I walked out the first set of doors, then the second. I was seeing red. I was walking, but for some reason, I wasn’t picking up my feet. So there I was, walking in this parking lot, practically stomping. I walked over to my car. I yanked my door open and sat down. I was sitting in my car looking straight ahead just as I had done previously. For the first time I was alone in this world. It was up to me, whatever I wanted to do, I had to pave the way for myself. Nobody was coming to save me. I pulled out my phone. I felt it sliding out of my hand because of sweat. I went straight to text messages, and texted Bryson. “Yo, be home in 20, meet me at the appt.” I threw the phone into the passenger seat, turned the key and heard my car let out a low rumble. I had to wait for the rpms to get under 1 grand before I went anywhere. I fly home, disregarding every speed limit I see. I can’t see straight, I didn’t even turn on the music. I had one thing in mind. Revenge. 

I pull back into the parking lot. I didn’t hit the breaks, so the tires let out a scream as they pulled off the street. I find my parking spot, park and get out. I grabbed my phone and slammed the door, the only problem was that my keys were still in the ignition. I opened the door agian and snached the keys out of the iggition. I make my way to my apartment. I push open the door to the building. The nice receptionist lady looked up and said hi, to which I didn’t respond. I was too focused. I sprinted up the stairs, straight to room 64.

 I grabbed the handle, and to my suprise, It opened right up. I walked in slowly. Everything looked fine, I thought to myself, no home invasion. I walked through the kitchen and straight into the living room. To my suprise, Bryson was waiting for me on the couch. “Wow, that was fast, '' I told him. “I heard that text message and I knew exactly what it was about. You want to know something D’Lo, I've known you for a long time, and I always knew you had it in you, I just didn’t know what would have to happen for it to come out. You’re a real thug, It’s your time to shine '' I sat there in dumbfounded silence, I stared at him, in my mind that last line “You’re a real thug. It’s your time to shine.” kept replaying in my head. No, I'm not exactly what my brain told me. “You’re not a thug, you’re just a kid, I have so much to live for, I never knew it would come to this.”

 There was dead silence, you could hear the couple down the hall fighting, the ice machine making ice, you could even hear the hum of the refrigerator. I looked back at Bryson, with a serious look. “I want to know who killed my brother.” The words came off my tongue and felt hot. I felt sick. I wasn’t thinking about consciences, I just wanted revenge. Bryson looked back at me and rubbed his hands on his knees as if he was the one that was nervous. “If you’re serious, I know someone who witnessed it go down, Ricky, from C building. I jumped from my seat and looked at him, “Let's go” I said in an increasingly serious tone, “D’Lo, let's think about this, you really want to do this.” I gave him a scolding look, “This isn’t a debate.” We both grabbed our things and had one destination, C Building.

I stood outside the towering building. Straight up, nothing but brick. These buildings are old, really old, built in the 50s and everywhere you walk is a falling zone for loose bricks. We looked down from the building and our eyes met “You ready?” Bryson asked in a trembling voice. This scared me slightly, just because Bryson is known as an incredibly emotionally stable man. I didn’t respond back to him. I kept my eyes locked on his. I could tell he didn’t want to do this, but I couldn’t have cared less. I turned my feet to the door and started walking towards the entrance. Not to my surprise, Bryson hesitated. He looked scared, something you don’t see a lot in the complex. We get inside and make our way to the elevator. As we started our journey to the third floor, there was no talking, only silence. The doors let our a screech as they came to an open. A rat scurried across the floor in front of us. I felt my stomach drop for the 3rd time that weekend. We walk over to door 13. The peeling wallpaper looked straight out of a horror movie. I knocked on the heavy metal door, and to my surprise a man appeared quite fast. I took a step back to which he looked at me puzzled. “What do you want?” he said in a quite angry voice, “You just woke me up.” I knew this was a lie, but went along with it anyway. “Uh, um, you saw my brother get murdered yesterday, and I was hoping to get some info.” He looked back at me with a wide grin. “I can tell you everything you want to know.” I looked back at Bryson, and his eyes were glued to the floor. “Come inside and have a seat.” The man said as he turned his back to us and made his way into the dimly lit room.

The apartment was a mess. Rotten food, scales and baggies were scattered around the kitchen. It reeked of burning, to which I recognized to be the smell of burnt drugs. I sat down on the couch, and the man sat down directly next to me, Bryson sat down in the opposite corner of the room. “Your brother was a good man, he was solid. I knew him for a little bit. On that Friday night, we were outside, off the corner of 65th. There were about 10 of us, shooting dice. Your brother threw down a rack and proceeded to shoot. To which he lost. He stood up and claimed to the man that he was playing that he was cheating and he wanted his money back. The man said no, and it escalated from there. Next thing we knew, shots rang out and echoed through the alleyway. Everyone started to run. After about a minute or so, we all returned to the corner, and there was your brother, on the ground, in a pool of blood.” I sat there in amazement . “My brother died because of a silly game?” I asked the man, to which he replied “I’m sorry.” 

The man stood up from the couch and walked over to the infested kitchen. The floorboards creaked and groaned with every step he took. I looked over at Bryson and he still hadn't looked up. “What's his deal?” I heard from the kitchen. I looked up and the man was pointing to Bryson. “He’s going through a lot.” I told him to which he took as a satisfactory answer. He threw hot pockets into the microwave and you could hear it slowly start to move. You could hear the grease starting to pop. I looked towards the man, his dreads were coming down past his shoulders and he had an assortment of chains on. The most noticeable one was his OTF chain. I knew this stood for a rap group named Only The Family. He had his hood up and wore dark tinted sunglasses. I asked the man his name and he told me Durk. I had only heard stories of him, but now I was sitting in his living room. I noticed Bryson started to stir in the corner. I knew we had to leave soon, I got up from the couch and walked into the kitchen. “I have one more question for you Mr. Durk.” He looked at me with a puzzled look, but had a wide grin on his face, “I’ve never been called Mr. Durk.” he said with a little laugh. ‘Who was the man who shot my brother?” His smile got wiped off his face. He looked at me with a look no one had ever looked at me with. “Umm '' He started, I could tell he was nervous. “Ummm, well, TW opp, over on 63rd. He hangs outside the Cozy Corner. His name is Rodney. He’s the real deal. A real shooter, be safe kid.” As he said this he gave me a pat on the back. He looked at me with a confident look. I told Bryson lets go, to which he got up in a hurry. “Last thing kid” I turned around and Durk gave me a gun. He was holding it out to me. I slowly reached out and grabbed it. Gen 5, Brand new. I could feel my heart starting to race. It felt like it was going to come out of my chest. “Thanks.” I exclaimed. I sounded like a kid when he got a new toy. Bryson shook the mans hand, and I followed. We both thanked him for the hospitality, and then exited the apartment. Stepping out of the dirty room felt like a relief, although the hallway wasn’t much better.

As we approached the doors to go back outside, I tucked the gun into my waistband. For the first time in my life, I felt like a real thug. I felt accepted. As we started the trek back home Bryson looked at me with a serious expression. “D’Lo, think about this. Let your emotions calm down.” I was so excited that I felt a body high. I felt an out of body experience. “I have to do the things I have to do.” I told Bryson. He glanced at me. “I’ve lost to many people, either to death or to the pin, I can’t lose you to.” I threw my shirt over my newly obtained pistol. I felt different...I felt powerful. I walked out the doors with a closed mind, I knew what I wanted and when I wanted it. We got back into the car and Bryson looked at me with a sour face. I turned to him “What was with all the hiding in the corner?” I asked him. “He reached over and struck me in the side of the temple.” I instantly got a headache, but I wasn’t letting this one slide. I hopped out of the car and ran over to the passenger side. I grabbed the door handle so hard that I thought it might rip off. I grabbed a hold of the collar of his shirt and threw him to the ground. Standing over him, I started yelling “ I can’t deal with you anymore.” I was seeing red. I lost it, I couldn’t handle the pressure, after all, I was just a kid. When I finally calmed down, I could finally make out his face. It was bruised and bloody. “What have I done?” I thought to myself. “I’m a monster.” I didn’t know what to do. I put him in my backseat, as I did this, he was mumbling incoherent words that I couldn’t make out. I took him back to his building. I carried him through the double wide doors to the elevator… Now, I know what you’re thinking, this looks a little weird carrying a bloody man through an apartment complex, and on paper it is, but in the neighborhood, people don’t think twice about things. Everyone just minds their own business. I left him leaning up against the door frame of his apartment. As I left him, I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen when he woke up.

My mind quickly shifted back to the original plan. I headed down the stairs with a stoic face. I felt cold, relentless, evil. I didn’t need my car because the cozy corner was only a 10 minute walk. I was in all black. GD colors, logos colored out, black af1, hair tied back. I was ready. I walked to the edge of the apartment complex. As I pushed the gate open, I turned around and looked at the old brick buildings. I felt different, like this might be the last time I saw them. I kept walking, head up, eyes on a swivel. Walking down the sidewalk, every step I took felt heavier. I got to the intersection of 63rd, and turned left. I felt ready, but my stomach felt like I was going to throw up. 

There he was. Standing outside of that old, nasty bodega. I threw on my ski mask, the inside rubbing up against my nose and cheeks. I rounded the corner, and knew it was my time, I creeped up, grabbed the handle on my waistband and my finger was on the trigger. And then it happened.

“Stop right there.” came from right behind me. A flock of about 5 cop cars pulled up. Sirens ringing out, echoing off the walls of the alleyway. I felt my heart drop. I turned around and there was a group of cops, guns drawn all pointing at me. I turned back around and to no surprise, Rodney had run off. I dropped to my knees and knew the gig was up. It had snowed earlier that day, but the pavement still felt hot.  I pulled the gun out of my waistband and threw my hands on the back of my head. I felt the cold metal up against my skin as they tightened it down. The cops were talking, but in the heat of the moment, it all sounded like they were mumbling. I was placed in the back of that cold cop car. As I looked up, an older gentlemans eyes met mine. It had been the same one from the traffic stop earlier in the week. He nodded, and turned away. I sat there crying, Again, I felt alone in this world, and it was nobody's fault but my own. I felt myself slipping in and out of reality, what was going to happen to me? How long was I going to be locked up for? The cop climbed into the driver's seat. Put the car in gear and we started moving. I tried to talk to him, but he did not respond. He just looked straight ahead and stared into the slowly fading sunset. I put my head on the window, trying to think about what was next. 

I tried to close my eyes before I got to the station, but the uneven road didn’t seem to want me to get some much needed rest. I was in a panic, partly because I had never been in this situation before, and because there was nobody to call or ask me for assistance. This is one hundred percent on me, nobody else to blame but myself and no I need to find a way out of this. I started to bang my head on the window, most everything was a blur in that moment. I had told myself earlier in the week during the run to Kankakee that this lifestyle was going to catch up to me. My mom always told me there was no such thing as quick cash. I always shook her off, until I got involved with my partners and their drug business. I guess I saw the cash and the red flags went away. When I first told my parents about me getting involved in the gang lifestyle, they never seemed pleased. My Dad was in a gang once, but after the block got shut down, he got out. He always advised me to stop, but I never listened to him. Every second I thought more about how many times people had told me to stop. I got more upset. The cop looked back in the rearview mirror. The anger had now shifted into a sympathetic look. He stared back at me, and asked me in a surprisingly soft voice “How old are you son?” “19 sir.” I responded. He just looked ahead at the road shaking his head. “So sad how many people get themselves involved in bad situations. I truly think you’re a good kid, with good intentions, but you just got wrapped up with the wrong people.” I felt the tears run down my face, partially because I knew he was right, this was all my fault.

We pulled up to the police station and I felt nauseous, we walked through the doors in the back into a cold dark room. They asked me my name and asked if I had a valid ID on me, to which I reluctantly handed over my drivers license. The man processing me had a stoic look on his face. He walked me over to the wall, and had me put my feet on the blue dots. He took my mugshot which looked terrible. Next I took my clothes and put them in a trash bag, he took my fingerprints and assigned me to a cell. Cell 6B, for as long as I live I will never forget it. My celly was a slightly shorter, slightly skinnier version of him. He snarled at me when I walked in. “What are you lookin at?” He looked at me. I knew from prior knowledge that you better establish yourself as tough in prison, so I didn’t stand down to him. “Whatup?” I asked him. I wasn’t the toughest but I could hold my own. 

He swung first, and I soon followed. It was quick but painless. Guards rushed into the cell and broke it up. I was in a low spot in my life and that threw gas on the fire. The day seemed to get worse and worse. They took me out to meet the warden. Walking down the corridor sent my mind back to that day in the morgue. I got to his door, stretched across was the name plate “Warden Walker '' I got ushered into the room. The carpet was the first thing I noticed, because it was a blood red. He was sitting with his legs up on his desk and was puffing on a cigar. The smoke filled up the room like a cool morning fog. “Sit down” He offered to me. I thought there was nothing to lose so I took up his offer. “Why did you fight?” Now his feet are planted on the flood and he placed his cigar in his ashtray. “It was in self defense.” I claimed. He looked at me with a puzzled look, but told one of the gaurds to bring him the tapes. He returned a few moments later with a VHS tape. The warden popped it into his tv and pushed play. 

“Woah!”He exclaimed as the TV speed past the fight scene. He slowly rewinded it to the action. Plan as day, there it was, my former celly swung on me first. “Well that's all the info we need! You will receive no punishment and will be released as a new roommate.” The warden explained to me. He stood up to shake my hand, to which I did.

He got ushered out of the room, and the guards walked me to my new cell. 18A. My new roommate, if you wanted to call him that, was an older gentleman, friendly looking. I got placed in the cell and the door slammed behind me. The man was laying on his bed and he welcomed me, something I wasn’t expecting. “How are you?” he asked. “Pretty good," I told him. He let out a long sigh. Well, this is going to be a long ride…

6 months later I finally got a release date. September eighth! I couldn’t wait. Only 6 more weeks The warden called me back into his office one day. It made me nervous, walking back down that hallway brought back bad memories from my first day here, something that felt like it was forever ago. “Welcome back” he said with a slight smile, “It's my favorite inmate” he exclaimed, which I couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic. “Because you have been so well behaved, well other than our first day, which he said with a slight smirk. Our correctional institution has offered an opportunity for our best behaved prisoners to enroll in night classes in the community college.” I looked at him with amazement. This has always been a dream of mine. The whole reason I felt I needed to sell drugs was to save enough to go to college. “When do we start?” I asked with excitement.  “Tonight.’’ The warden said

 “I’ll be there.” I told him and made my way back to my cell. I got more and more excited with each step I took. I could hardly wait for tonight, it was finally my chance to turn my life around. 

That night, the white prison bus pulled up to the side of the prison. I noticed very few people were allowed this great opportunity. As I got on the bus and started to walk back to my seat, I noticed my cellmate was also allowed the opportunity to go to college. I got excited because I knew someone else and wouldn’t be all by myself. 

I got in the classroom and sat down. An officer walked over and placed a pencil in front of me. It was the first time I had held a pencil since high school. As I picked it up, I felt all the memories back to me. The professor started and asked us when we got out of his class what we were going to get our degree in. I started thinking about what I wanted to do, and then it hit me. Why don’t I be a teacher? I raised my hand and told the man that I would like to pursue education and he told me that was a great choice.  I thought about how much I wanted to change the world and help teach that the streets are a bad idea. 

My release date came and went, but I never wavered from going to school. I was determined to finish this. I moved out of parkway gardens, and cut contact with Bryson. I got my own apartment and continued my education path, and after 4 years I graduated from that small community college. I started looking for jobs, and an opening showed up at my old high school. I was ecstatic because everyone knew me and everyone thought highly of me. I got time to meet with the principal. I showed up exceedingly early. Fifteen minutes past 7. The principal jumped out of his brand new mercedes. It was a deep navy, He walked up with a wealthy strut. He stuck out his hand and I shook it firmly. “Come down to my office and we can discuss your resume.” I stopped dead in my tracks. My mind started racing, what about my criminal record. My mind kept going back over that question. 

I followed him back to his office. Across his desk is a plaque that reads Mr. Astor, a well put together man, ironed suit and polished shoes. He let out a sigh as he sat down. Let's take a look at your resume. He pulled it down, but almost as soon as he started reading he stopped. “Son, you don’t have any job experience”. “I,I,I know” I stuttered, “but I was wondering if I could get a job, anywear, please.” He looked up at me, and took his glasses off. “You know what, there is an opening at an inner city school, A high school history teacher. ” He said “I would be honored to offer you a job.” He stood up with a wide smile. I followed suit and stuck my hand out. “And one more thing, he said, would you be interested in running an after school program that is anti gang.” Absolutely I said while shaking his hand rapidly.I felt on top of the world walking out of the office. A new start for me, just what I needed. I started in two weeks.

Two weeks later I found myself standing in front of fourteen high school students. I pulled out my notebook with my lesson planner. “Welcome students to the 9th grade, my name is Mr. Webster, and I will be your teacher this year. Can we all pull out our textbooks and turn to page 1.” I felt this was going to be the start of something great.