Dated: 3rd Sept'2003
Dear Diary,
I grew up in a family of army officials and my love for for guns and other such ammunition proliferated each day I saw yet another family member join the army.
Years later, after graduating high school, my father suggested that I join the army rather than studying ahead. The smile on my face dilated as I reflected my future with access to weaponry. Five weeks later, I qualified the training test and was awarded with the Rookie Badge. Sometime later, when I found out that the trainer's daughter, Methali was my class mate; we became close friends but on one such unfortunate day, this girl was the reason why the North County cops pushed me behind those terrible bars.
This kind of experience always proves devastating for the entire military force and the fact that your neighboring countries get further a chance to humiliate your military force.
On the balmy Saturday night of August'2003, Methali asked me, whether or not I desired to participate in a Shooting Contest that was to be held in mid-December. And I as usual, undeniably agreed to such an offer like never before. She emphasized on the fact that she would train me for the different tactics that shooters are capable of using and that I lacked some of them. She insisted like a cry baby and I helplessly accepted her offer.
Then the day came when I landed behind those grills - the JAIL. Methali demonstrated that how I would have to hit the Bull's Eye while blindfolded and told me that I should pull the trigger in the direction I heard the music playing. After which she blindfolded me saying that she would return in a moment. A couple of minutes later, she turned on the music. I stirred up my courage and shot exactly in the direction as to where the music was being played. I heard somebody wail in great pain and the moment I took the blindfold off, time stopped, my heart beat uncontrollably against my chest, the whole world seemed to have closed down on me and instinct told me that I was in grave danger.
There lay the body of a woman, drenched in scarlet as if a park covered with crimson flowers in Autumn. She used me. She took advantage of my innocence as a way to get rid of her step mother. And in a blink of an eye, she picked up the phone and informed the police about what I had done and not what she had made me done!
Two minutes later, precisely, I heard what great criminals hate to hear, the sirens of the police car that roared the hallway. Four muscular North County cops beset me as I stood traumatized with guilt and fear of being trapped into a mortal rival's disgusting plan. And the last thing I remember, dear diary, is that I was being dragged down the hallway, blinded by friendship.
