Personal Narrative: To Kill A Black Girl

“I wasn’t there. I have no idea what happened. I just found her like this.” I start to choke. The tears finally got to me. I start to cry. Cry over her, cry over him. Why on earth would he do this? There’s no reason. He’s probably out there now, murdering his other best friends. But then why wouldn’t he kill me? All I know is that the knife went through her heart and not mine. Funeral plans were made by Amba’s mother. I have no intention of doing any of that stuff. I just sit in my room, rejecting most food, mourning my best friend. It feels like forever ago that she was here with me. On the day of the funeral, I realize that I don’t have anything to wear. Oh wait, yes I do. In the way back of my closet is a small, black dress with lace on the top. It still fits after all these years. But I can’t wear it. It’ll put me in deeper despair. Instead I wear a black shirt and jeans. I’ve never been so sad in my life. Amba’s parents are a mess. I try to keep my emotions to myself throughout the ceremony. They talk about her and her life, and how terrible it was to be so young and die the way she did. At that part, my throat

I’ve always said ‘I don’t know’ or ‘Stop asking’. I usually said ‘Ask me no questions, I tell you no lies.’ I think I’ve finally gotten through to them that I wasn’t there. I’ve been thinking over what Raven said. Tell anyone and I will find you and I will kill you. Seeing what he did that night, he really would find me and kill me if I told someone what really happened. I’ve been deathly afraid of him or anyone who knocks on my bedroom door. But someone has to know. I can’t live like this forever. I have to tell someone. Raven needs to be caught. But then he’ll kill me. I argue in my head for the next three weeks like this. Then one day someone knocks on my bedroom door. I jump at the sound, like I always do. I’m literally scared to death of that