The Boy Who Changed

As I stood near the door, a 1992 windowed wooden door, I couldn’t find the strength in my body left to run. My fingers trembling uncontrollably as I placed my fingers on the cool, rigid surface of the object near me. Hesitantly shaking, glancing back, I lifted the gun towards the innocent being in front of me at a gradual rate. “There is no turning back now,” I thought to myself. Sweat drizzled from beneath me, transpiring at the edges near my forehead and hitting the cool, metallic floor beside me.  The sounds “pitter patter,” followed me as they kept replaying in my head while my sweat continued to drench the floor. My breath grew heavier and heavier as I shifted the gun up higher enough where I made contact with the dangerous weapon I held in front of me. At that moment, I placed my fingers on the trigger, moving from one side to another, grabbing how much ever my body would allow me to carry, until the inexplicable happened.
As a child, I always had the most of everything whether it was dependent on test scores or how much candy I brought to lunch the next day. I excelled in school like no other kids did, placing the highest in my class. “I’m just naturally smart,” I used to tell other kids when they frowned and looked disappointed because they couldn’t possibly do as well as me. Aside from my inexplicably high scores, my friends and I would bring the biggest, most creative objects that left my friends nodding their head with their mouth wide open, full of awe. Especially that one time I brought in a piece of art that outlined a person that had veins coming out of his body.  Robby never appreciated or admired the objects I brought in. “Cut it out, those aren’t even his. He stole it,” Robby used to say every time I brought something in. Robby is my best friend, or at least he was. He always put down everything I brought in, even when everyone praised me for it. We usually always look for objects to bring in to share with one another; therefore today remained one of those days. 
In desperate search for an object earlier throughout the day, I had gone into the basement to look for something that I could bring in to show my friends, an exotic piece of furniture. Because of the little amount of money we had, we didn’t have the most extraordinary furniture or objects lying around the house. Therefore, I didn’t have much time to find anything. A block away from our house stood an old antique store, dark and filled with rust. The dust lifted as we stepped through the cracks on the floor, which creaked every time we inched toward them. Robby and I always went to look at all the cool inventory the store had taken in from owners that had no use for that certain object anymore. The little store, neat and different, carried a wide range of objects extending from something as small as a tennis ball to something as big as a unique lamp with a streak of color against the side.
I stepped into something warmer and headed out to the store with no money, but my mind had been set on grabbing something abstract from the store. As I entered the store, I felt the breeze hit me as goose bumps spread throughout my body. The store, old and rusty, lay in the same condition I had last seen it.  My eyes shifted towards the shiny, mesmerizing object near the back. Inching my way closer to the objects, I reached the aisle where the object appeared to stand when I spotted the price tag.  Without the money to pay for such an object, I examined the other objects near the aisle. Small enough to fit inside my pocket, I looked around till I saw no one around and slipped it into my back pocket. I turned the corner, looking down. Not seeing anything at first, my eyes suddenly shifted to the pair of shoes faced towards me. “They kind of look like Robby’s shoes,” I thought to myself because I had been there when Robby had gotten his new shoes. I really hoped it was not Robby, “Please don’t let it be Robby, please don’t let it be Robby,” I sang to myself.
I looked up to see Robby’s red, uncombed hair, and eyes not on me, but rather on the camera he videotaped me with. “What are you doing?” I asked Robby quietly. He responded, “What are you doing?” “I am just looking around to see if they got new inventory,” I responded sluggishly, scared of what he might do with the video. I started walking out, heading to the door just as Robby pulled the carved stick out of my pocket and put it back onto one of the shelves, responding, “Is this how you afford to get all these cool stuff, by stealing them?” I kept walking, so I wouldn’t get into trouble. He followed me out threatening that he would tell the storeowner about all the objects I had taken from the store before, unless I made a deal with him. Afraid to get into more trouble, I agreed petrified to hear what the deal consisted of.
“Mrs. Baker won’t be home tonight. If you really want to go steal something, go steal my baseball bat back from her.” “What happened with your baseball bat?” I asked.  “When my cousins and I went out hunting, we stopped to play ball and we accidentally hit the ball through one of her windows so she came at us with my bat” Robby replied. Robby’s parents admired to hunt, therefore Robby got all the hand me down guns that ran in his family tradition for years. He got passed down four guns when he turned 18, in which he used when he went out hunting with his family.  “What exactly do you want me to do?” I asked still shaky on the deal I had just made. “I want my baseball bat back, and I need you to get it for me since you’re so good at stealing stuff,” Robby smirked. “Or else I will send this video out to everyone at the school who believes you are some sort of hero,” Robby continued, handing me a gun for safety. “Why the gun?” I asked, trying to hide the scared tone in my voice. “They aren’t a nice family, especially Mrs. Baker, so be careful,” Robby continued. “Mrs. Baker doesn’t scare me,” trying not to show my weakness, I responded. Grasping the gun in my hand, I placed it behind me, into the back buckle of my belt that held my pants up without questioning the extent of the gun and headed to the house later that night. The house appeared dark, with no visible lights on inside the house. 
I reached the house with my gun ready to go as I stepped my way through the cracked window, cautious of the glass that still lay on the floor. The house, dark and cold, seemed empty without a noise, justifying my thought that no one was home. I still held the gun up though, afraid of what might happen. I walked around with a flashlight because it was 9pm and I wanted to touch as little as possible including the light switches. I walked into what appeared to be the living room, stepping into a box full of kitchen utensils. “Hello?” A voice came up from behind me and suddenly the lights flickered on as I shifted the gun toward the cold, still human in front of me. “I never harmed anyone,” I consistently suggested, comforting myself as I saw the body freeze in front of me. Skin mesmerizing at first glance, but now, I saw the look of sorrow as the twinkle in her eyes turned to a shed of dust. As she stood there, not moving, she was unable to breath or grasp anything that just had happened. “What are you doing with that gun?” She would ask every now and then to try and make sense of why I continued to hold the gun up towards her. I let go of my hands as reality hit me, the gun dropped to the floor, breaking into pieces through the force of the fall. I kept closed my eyes hoping it all appeared as a dream, opening them to find her standing there, same as before only the anger inside her had become stronger since I last laid my eyes on her. 
Not knowing what to do, I reached into my back pocket looking for my phone. Still shaky on what just happened, I tried to scroll down in desperate search for Robby’s name. With no one else to contact, I started dialing his number, shuffling from side to side as I tried to find a path out the door. “I’m sorry,” I kept saying as those were the only two words that kept rehearsing through my head and out of my mouth. When he picked up, no words escaped my mouth. “Hello,” Robby repeated continuously. I pulled myself together, still shaky, I responded, “Robby, I never harmed anyone...” and due to the moisture that escalated through the palms of my hands, my phone slipped through my fingers, dropping to the floor alongside the gun. A minute later, Robby appeared through the window.
“What happened?” Robby said, as he shuffled his way through, standing still at the sight of Mrs. Baker’s fragile expression. He asked again, “Drew, what happened?” “I never harmed her, Robby,” I responded. “I-I-I had my finger on the trigger as Mrs. Baker came up from behind me and startled me, I d-d-don’t know how it happened. No one appeared to be at h-h-home.” Robby shifted towards me. I stood up and headed towards Mrs. Baker. “I needed to get Robby’s bat, I never intended to use the gun for harm, just for protection,” I cried hysterically to Mrs. Baker and Robby who had hovered over me. Suddenly, I realized that this event would traumatize me for the rest of my life.
Epiphany, they called it. I never used to believe in such an experience so big and tragic that could trigger my life forever. At that moment though, I realized that I couldn’t go on. I had to change. I couldn’t live like this forever, I just couldn’t. Pulling myself together, I raised my head with enough courage to look Mrs. Baker in the eye. “Mrs. Baker, I’m so sorry. I didn’t intend to go this far,” I said, still in disbelief. “I am willing to accept the consequences, and will do anything you want,” I continued, but at this point I begged for her forgiveness. I searched for any signs of forgiveness she gave off in her face when she looked directly toward me, opening her mouth, but no words stuttered out. Until, at last she forgave me, and I had changed for the better.