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Intermediate. Years 7/8/9

A Story From The Ghetto

By Grace Yates, year 9, Les Beaucamps School

I jump awake to the sound of banging on the door, followed by officers shouting in German. I rush into my older brother, Jack's room to find him awake as well. He looks suspiciously nervous as we walk down stairs and open the door.

“What’s going on?” I ask as we reach the door. Suddenly Jack grabs my shoulders and leans down to look at me.

“Just remember, whatever happens, I love you.”

He kisses my forehead and opens the door. Everything's a blur after that. The officer grabs my brother and throws him to the ground.

“No!” I scream, tears running down my face, as I watch the officer put a gun to my brother's head. Jack looks me in the eye and not a second later I see the life leave his eyes. He crumples to the ground and the officer walks away.

I stand there in shock as the tears run down my face. I look at my brother's dead body. Surely this has to be a dream, it has to be. I don’t know how long I stand there until it sinks in that this is reality, but when it does I run back into the house, up the stairs and down the hallway to my brother's room. I run in and collapse on his bed, tears streaming down my face. It feels like my chest is getting crushed by a train. It hurts! It hurts too much! I can’t take it! This can’t be real! Someone tell me it isn’t real!

My body shakes and the tears fall until there are no tears left. My chest feels tight and it hurts, more than you could ever imagine. I must have cried myself to sleep because, soon enough, darkness fills my mind and the shaking stops.

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