MINUTE ONE

They say you have around 6 minutes of brain activity before you actually die.

I felt the force of the impact connect to my chest.

Pain.

Red hot pain.  

I didn't fight.  I just let the life drain out of me.  

I could hear muffled sobs of Sam.  I could hear my last few breaths.

Then I saw haze.

6 minutes.  That's all I had left.

It's all I have left to remember the elements of my life.  It's all I have to reflect.

--

12 years earlier:

"Charlotte, baby!"  my mom called to me.

My five-year-old self ran over to her, lugging my backpack along.  

"Ready for kindergarten?" she told me, pinching my cheek.

"Yup."  I said.

My father snapped a quick picture of me, before kissing my cheek.  

"Have a good day!  Stick close to Samuel and you'll be fine."  he whispered.

I nodded, before hopping into Sam's car, where his parents were dropping us off.

--

FLASHBACKS

4 years earlier:

I slammed my face onto the bed, my mouth gaping open with blocked screams.

My parents had died.  

An orphanage worker walked in, laying a hand on my back.

"It's ok, you'll be fine," she soothed.

What type of teenager lost their parents at thirteen to murder?  And basically watch?  

They wanted to kill me too.  They chased after me.

Oh my God, I'm an orphan.  Soon to be a corpse.  

I'm only thirteen.

I'm surrounded by smelly children, and have no parents, no more life.

My heart hurts so bad it's unrecognizable. 

I'm so confused.

So confused. 

Why me?  

Why couldn't I die with my parents?  It would have been over, and I wouldn't have to deal with what I'm dealing with.

No one knows me right now.  I'm just a ghost.  Invisible.  

I remembered seeing homeless people outside, holding out their cardboard signs.  How we averted our eyes, feeling sorry for them, wishing we could do more.  

But now I've become one of the people people pity.

What a year.  How fast the life roller coaster changes course just because we went to go get freaking ice cream.  Ice cream.  I hate ice cream.

--

I arrived at the school, for the first time after my parents had died. 

My heart couldn't believe it, even after 2 weeks.  The orphanage was ok.  Kids were nice, at least.

Middle school was crazy.  I pulled out my cellphone, one of the stuff I still had in my possession.  I also couldn't believe that I was basically penniless.

I saw Sam.  I called out his name, and he looked back at me.

I ran over to him, giving him a hug.

I braced myself for the worrying he'd make me drown in.

But nothing.

He just pushed me away.  "Go away, Charlotte."

His friends "oohed" laughing at the shocked expression I had plastered on my face.  Not my best friend.  My parent's killers can't take away my friend too.  

I had no more friends.  Everyone didn't want to be caught with the penniless orphan who had once attracted everyone with her beauty, talent and wealthiness.  

Kind of like the Little Princess, I guess.

Except Sara Crewe had somewhere to sleep.  She had a friend.  Her father came back.  She had a job to keep her busy.  Someone was there to make sure she was safe.  They even set up a freakiing tea party up for her.  A monkey to keep her company sometimes.  But me?  I'm alone now.  

I'm lonely. 

I'm not alone. There's still people around me.  But lonely is feeling alone in a situation when you shouldn't.

--

I run, faster and faster, cornering the block.  My heart's racing, pants spilling out of my cracked lips. My legs move voluntarily, my mind unprepared for what happened.  

The men were here.  My parent's murderers.   I saw them in the orphanage.  I climbed out the window, running as fast as I could.  I couldn't even say goodbye to some of the kids I befriended.  

Dang it, I had left my stuff in my room.

But I guess my life is more important.

I stopped running after 30 minutes, finding a place to stay the night.

I laughed to myself.  A crazy maniac laugh.

A homeless.  

No food or water that would be given to me now.  

I can't even go to the shelter.  They'd find me there.  Now I'm homeless.

Home.  Less.  Without a home.  

Although for me, it's so much more.  Without family.  Without necessities.  Without friends.  Without hope. 

I lie down, unable to see the stars.  

I can't even have stars.  Stars are something that is free.  Open to public, I guess.  But I still can't have it.

I scream in fury.  In confusion.  In rage.  In jaw-trembling anger.

Can my parents see me right now?  Can they?  Are they ashamed of me?  

Cause I am of myself.  I should have never ran.  I should have stayed and gotten killed before it happened in the later future.

--

REALITY  

I can feel my battery life go down to- lower than 100, I guess.

I know in a few minutes, I'm going to be gone.  

Just like that.  A little bullet, the size of my pinky can just take my life.   It's so unfair. 

The world is unfair.  Unfair how some people live in luxury, and other live in inhumane situations.  Unfair how children bully one another, but how they cry and cry about not getting that one toy they wanted.  How you can't have everything you want.  Unfair how my time was so limited.

I know that my life won't matter the 7 billion or so people on this earth.  But it sure does matter to me.  Because I'm the one living it.  No one can really feel the feelings I feel, the thoughts I think, the moods I go through.  I can't define the reality of living a life.  It's just so unexplainable.

How life can just end, but you're not really dead.  In a way, you're still alive.  

Reality is unexplainable.  Because reality is just the art of real.  Realness.  

No one could have ever imagined me in this situation now, living my last few moments. At least when my parents were still alive.  

But here I am.  It's reality.