(Fiction) My name is Cynthia and I am twenty-five years old. I am in my second year of college in Brooklyn, New York after being in jail for five years. I was in jail for attempting to kill a woman but if you’ll just hear me out, I’ll tell you how it all happened. I was born and raised in Miami, FL with my mom and older sister, Melissa. My father died when I was ten. My sister was into women. She was lesbian or bisexual, or something. After I graduated high school I moved to Brooklyn to live with Melissa. At the time, she was attending New York University for film and dating a woman named Jasmine. I didn’t like Jasmine from the moment I met her. I knew that moving to New York would change Melissa but that woman had my big sister wrapped around her little finger. "Where are you going? What time will you be back? Who will you be with? Why are you on-line so long? Why does she keep calling you? What’s going on between you two?" All these types of questions she would ask Melissa and my sister didn’t like to argue so she would just answer Jasmine so she would be quiet, or Melissa just wouldn’t go out to avoid the whole hassle all together. I had intended to study at Pratt for graphic design. Melissa and I were going to work together on films. But six months after I moved in with her our mother died. She was electrocuted by a power line that was on a tree in her back yard. The neighbors said that she was picking mangos to give away but within seconds of touching the tree she collapsed, dying before an ambulance got to her. Melissa and I flew down for funeral arrangement and to talk to attorney’s about her house and will. After my mom died, I felt like Melissa was all I had. Not being into guys and relationships at the time I really felt like Melissa was my best friend. I just wanted to finish school and start making films, that was my dream. It turned out that Melissa and I had received twenty-five thousand dollars a piece after our mom died. But we wouldn’t get it until we turned twenty-five years old. I was eighteen then and Melissa, twenty-three. It was hard moving on after my mom’s death but slowly things seemed to get back to normal. Melissa worked out a deal with her professors to make up her missed work and I just decided to work a year before enrolling. Melissa was still dating Jasmine. We split the rent three ways for the top floor of a brownstone in Bedford-Stuyvesant. One day after about a year of my living in their guest room I heard them arguing. They argued a lot but lately it had been getting worse. Melissa left and didn't' come back until the next morning. Jasmine was crying and apologizing until she smelled smoke on Melissa’s clothes and liquor on her breath. Jasmine really hated when Melissa smoked because Melissa only smoked when she was mad at her. Melissa wasn't in the mood to be around Jasmine, she said she wanted to be with me. A little while after Melissa came home one of her coworkers called her, a female. Jasmine was rude to the girl and hung up. "Melissa is busy!" Melissa got angry and they argued again. Jasmine threw the phone and it hit Melissa in the stomach. Melissa got up and pushed Jasmine into the wall. I had never seen my sister so upset, I tried to step in between them because I didn't want the fight to get any worse. "Melissa, relax," I said but she didn't hear me. The more Jasmine put her hand in Melissa's face the angrier she got. "I'm telling you, Jasmine, you better get your hands out of my face." "Why? What are you going to do, hit me? I dare you," Jasmine said and pushed Melissa on the side of her head. She pushed her again and Melissa lost her balance. She almost fell. Melissa punched Jasmine in the face. They fought for a while before I tried to pull them apart again. "Get off me, you little *****!" Jasmine yelled. "Exscuse me?" I asked. Did I hear her right? "I said, get off of me, you stupid little *****." Bam! I threw Jasmine down on the floor. Melissa had asthma and she started to have an attack. I got really scared because she hadn't had an attack in over a year. I left Jasmine on the floor and went to look for Melissa’s pump. I pulled open all of her drawers tossing things out, but the one I found didn't work and I couldn't understand what Melissa was trying to say. I called 911 and in the mean time found a paper bag and gave it to Melissa, hoping it would help her breathe. I started to feel anger and hatred building up inside of me. Jasmine didn't even get up off the floor, she didn't even look concerned. I held Melissa in my arms stroking her forehead and talking to her as she tried desperately to pull air from the paper bag. A minute later I heard sirens and the doorbell. I ran to open the door and let the paramedics in. “What happened to her?” one of them asked, referring to Jasmine. “Forget her, I called you for my sister over here. Hurry, she’s having an asthma attack and can barely breathe.” “And her?” Another medic asked. “Her? It’s her fault! Let her lay there,” I said. He ignored my answer and checked Jasmine. I walked over to Melissa and the first medic. She kept saying that was that she was tired and wanted to lay down. But she said her chest was hurting. “Do you want to go to the hospital?” “Yeah,” she said softly. “Ma’am,” the first paramedic said. “My name is Eric. Do you want to come along with us?” “Yes. Of course!” I said. By that time Jasmine was sitting across the room. Nothing was wrong with her. “Are you all right to walk Melissa?” Eric asked. “Yeah.” “Okay, let’s go on out. What’s her hospital?” “Long Island College Hospital.” “I want to go!” Jasmine said. I looked at her like she was out of her **** mind. “It’s Okay,” Melissa said. “She can come.” We got in the ambulance and the paramedic asked more questions about Melissa’s medical history. But she started coughing again and Eric told the driver to go to Interfaith Hospital since it was closer. _______________ Have you ever ridden in the back on an ambulance? It’s cold and scary with needles and cotton swabs and, well, you get the point. With the siren wailing, Jasmine and I rode along sitting against the wall, secured by seat belts. Eric sat behind Melissa. I wanted to choke Jasmine. Melissa complained of pain off and on. We got there really quick and I sat nervously waiting. Every five seconds the hospital doors swung open. People were getting upset about waiting. There was a loud speaker calling out names. And there was an older black man complaining that he was hungry. “What are you doing. Mr. Washington?” A nurse asked him. He was taking off the hospital gown. “I’m going to get something to eat. I just got fixed up from a stab wound, y’all ain’t gon’ starve me to death!” I started laughing. It was really funny to me because he was serious. He started putting on his shoes, getting ready to go. “Stop tripping, Ms. Lady, I’ll be right back!” (The rest of the story can be found at: groups.yahoo.com/group/cherilnclarke) Let me know what you think!!!!!