My Hot Pink Mace

 A small black bottle with a hot pink cover. With a red ring around the spout. A size that fits perfectly in my hand. Something so small can help save me, the grip that fits in my palm perfectly. I carry around my hot pink mace for the fear of the world, I am terrified that something will happen. I'm scared I'll be the next person from the movies, being kidnapped and found dead. What will my mom think? Maybe just maybe this will save my life, a hot pink tube filled with a spray that makes anyone feel deadly.  I wouldn't dare let the spray hit my skin making me feel like I'm melting.  

On Thursday night around 7 oćlock, I walk up to a big building with lots of different stores. I hear all the chatter of people yet my mind is still silent. The tan tiles on the floor I don't dare look down. In I go to a bright purple store filled with rainbows and unicorns, so much pink and purple I feel like I'm in a Barbie movie. The lights are so bright I can feel them sinking through my skull.  I turn around to see the figure wearing a black hoodie. The man is tall and slim, but I can still see his definition. All I can see is his bloody red shoes. Maybe he was hired to come after me; he follows every move I make. My left foot then his, my right foot then his. He

looks like the killer from ¨Halloween¨ with eyes half closed. I feel him running after me with a knife. 

I grabbed my pepper spray ready to defend myself. I gripped the hot pink tube clutching it for my life, believing it will save me right now.  I turned around and snapped at the man ¨Why are you following me?¨  then he said, ” You’re not Madison¨. He walked away and my heart finally stopped pulsating.  I feared one man looking for his daughter at the mall, following me because he thought I was his daughter. 

 I may not think a tiny bottle could weigh so much. My pepper spray weighs hundreds of pounds. I feel like I am carrying an elephant, thousands of pounds on my body. I do not want to carry this weight forever. It hurts my hips from being in my pocket for so long. Is it my pepper spray that weighs so much or my fear for everything? I do not want to live in a world I fear and I do not believe anyone should.

One small bottle should not be what I rely on to save my life, I should not need to worry about what will save my life. I want control of the world, not fear of the world. I will never put down my pepper spray because I believe it will help save me. I want the world to be a safer and cheerful place. Truly, it takes everyone to change in order for a better world. Little girls should not have to fear going to the mall. I do not want my daughter to feel the way I feel in public. Will the world ever change? Will I ever be able to feel safe?