A/N: I swear I'm not dead, I'm so behind on requests and I'm having writer's block. Until I'm done with my requests, please take this new story (maybe just one post) until I finish everything else.
This post contains death, violence, and racism. Please do not hate me for this, I've been wanting to bring light to this type of stuff, and it's also a constant nightmare.
I stood on the dark blue road ranger van, megaphone up to my lips, tears blurring and burning my vision. I looked out at the sea of people- whether the people are good, bad, white, black, asian, male, female, or nonbinary, whatever. I felt my throat tighten and it got harder to speak. My mouth keeps opening and closing as I speak, but I can't hear myself.
You must be wondering who I am and how I got here. Well, let's start it where it all began.
My name is Chloe [REDACTED], I am an 18-year-old high school senior, and this is my story.
I may be a girl, and white at that, but this regards my best friend who I lost to a police officer. His name? Danté Branham, a young black man who was brutally beaten and murdered by a police officer. You may be wondering what Danté did, or why the police officer shot him. My FUCKING best friend!
We were driving in the middle of the day from Gracie's Diner where we had gotten brunch when we were pulled over, so we did. I put my hands up on the dash cause my mother taught me to obey the police, to not back down when something is wrong, to stand up for myself and the people I care about.
I looked over at Danté as he pulled out his driver's license and kept his hands on the steering wheel. He was scared, I saw it in his eyes.
"Danté, deep breath, you didn't do anything," I kept saying before I shut my mouth when the officer tapped on the window, causing Danté to tense up. I remember thinking 'don't screw this up Danté or we're both dead.'
He rolled down the tinted window and looked at the officer. "May I help you officer?" his voice quivered.
"License and registration, sir," The officer was snapping already before glancing at me. "I need your ID, Ma'am." I remember he had a softer tone with me, which caused Danté to get a little snippy with the officer. Damnit Danté, please stay calm. I kept saying that in my head before the officer yanked Danté out of the car, triggering my fight or flight response.
"Officer, you're being rough with him," I quickly got out of the car when all I saw was Danté falling to the ground, his blood splattering and pooling at my feet as one, two, three shots went off. Tears fell down my face as I dropped to my knees, holding Danté's head in my lap. I was too late. I couldn't stop the gunshots. "Danté, Danté," I sobbed. "Stay with me Danté, don't leave me." But, he was already gone.
Days, maybe weeks go by since then, and that same nightmare always comes back to me. Why couldn't I save him? It's my fault he's gone. Why couldn't it have been me? I relive those moments over and over, causing me more and more pain. I've been too scared to talk about it.
But I finally worked up the courage. This needed to be addressed, and I can't go quiet anymore. I need to take the stand not only for my friend or his family, but for everyone else.
"Hello Miss Chloe," the reporter said softly. "How are you doing today?"
I looked him up and down, he looked like any other news reporter. "I'm fine." I answered, my voice cracking.
"How did you know Danté?"
"Grew up with him. He was the closest friend I've ever had."
"And do you know what he was doing on that night he was killed?"
I glare at the reporter. "You act like he was this high ranking criminal! He wasn't doing anything!"
The reporter stared at me with big eyes, his pupils shrinking from my outburst. "Ma'am, that's not what I meant," he raised his hands as if shielding himself from more of my outburst.
"I really don't care! Everyone acts like my own best friend was this horrible guy!" I scream, my hands booming every time they made contact with the table. "I'm sick of it! I'm not doing this interview ever again!"
I stormed out of the news station that day, never to go back to it so far. How dare they? The criminal is the one who shot my best friend.
That's all I could write for now! I abandoned this project for a year, I'm thinking about writing a part two, what do you think? Anyways, I love you guys!
