Hello.
My name is Anani.
Anani Moss.
I am 17 years old. Senior.
Tuesday in November.
Band practice, leaving. Around six.
My mother: I'll be there when you get out.
No sight of her around back.
Went up front.
Nobody there. Sat on the steps.
Waited.
Seven-thirty.
Dark.
Headlights?
I recognize the car.
The window rolls down.
My boyfriend's father: Your mother called. Told me to uh, pick you up.
Think.
I get in.
Something isn't right.
Me: That's not the way to my house.
He stops the car.
Abandoned parking lot.
My boyfriend's father: Take this.
Pretty pink pill.
Why is he looking at me like that?
Reaching for me.
I get out. Run.
The car starts.
End of the alley. Brick wall.
He gets out. Gun. Grabs me.
Ripped my clothes.
I can't move.
Blood rushing from my head.
Cold concrete below my face.
Fade to white.
My name was Anani.
Anani Moss.
I was 17 years old.
The night I died.
Amber Evans
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/anani-moss/
