Got Away
I don’t know what we were thinking. That we could get away with it perhaps? Jenny sat in the passenger seat with eyes and mouth wide open. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Why did I get her involved? We came to a red light on Ferge and Cuda Rd. I looked both ways for traffic. No cars on the road. In front of us was the way out of town. I checked my review mirror for police lights and saw none.
My dad’s car, which I stole, rattled as if it was about to cut off. Jenny heard it and looked terrified. I pressed the gas pedal and the engine died. I turned the key again. Nothing. We were definitely stuck. Sirens rang in the distance behind us. I thought about when I was a child as I waited for the lightning then counted until the thunder boomed. Wish I could judge the distance of the police and calculate how much time we have to figure out what to do. With my shaky hand I attempted to rub Jenny’s hair, and she jumped. She unfolded her hands on her lap and there, the blood, our father’s blood. She had the knife. Fresh tears flowed.
Her scream blended with the sirens closing in behind. “Get out of the car!” I yelled. She leaped out and I noticed the blood on my dad’s door handle. My stomach turned. My first thought was that he was going to be mad at me. My second thought was that he could do nothing about it. “What are we going to do, Jon?” she asked. I stared at my sister. She was the one with blood on her hands. “I’m sorry,” I said softly.
As the police arrived I took off across the street. She ran after me, trusting me, not realizing that I had left her to take the blame for our father’s death. Gun fire exploded behind us. I thought of the lightening and picked up my pace. I slid to a stop past the border then turned around. That’s when I saw her, crumpled in the middle of the road like a small dead deer. Her blood now mixed with my father’s blood as it was in her bedroom. I hit him and busted his lip, his blood and hers on the sheets. I defended her and she followed me. I grabbed a handful of rocks as they approached her. They will not touch her. I ran toward her body, throwing the rocks.
A flash of light followed by smoke blinded me. My chest burned. Grabbing my chest, I thought of firecrackers and the 4th of July at my family’s barbeque. Everyone excited as dad set off the poppers. My legs buckled just as I reached Jenny. She looked at me as I fell on top of her. We both stared at each other as death gave us darkness and peace.
Some Kind of Funky 
I really like this piece and my critiques are actually structure-based rather than content.
You’ve got a huge block of text here! It’s intimidating and hard to read, particularly on the phone. Break it up! Adding white space does a few things. First, it’s easier for the eyes to flow around the story, particularly on a mobile device. But more importantly, white space gives the impression the reader is reading faster, thus increasing the pace of your story.
And your story could use some pacing changes. When the main character is reflecting on things (lightning, 4th of july, the assault) keep the sentences in the same paragraph. When the action is happening (driving the stolen car, running away, defending her body) break it up to pick up the pace.
Story-wise I like this little clip. It provides enough backstory to set the reader firmly in the world and it has a solid conclusion. Good point of view, too. Well done!
Thanks so much for stopping by. I really like your advice. I did not think about the effects of white space to help with reading pacing. Good idea. I need to work on pacing when writing as well. I will make some changes. Thanks.