A Mislead Boy | Teen Ink

A Mislead Boy

January 9, 2015
By Alex Jacobs BRONZE, Hoffman Estates, Illinois
Alex Jacobs BRONZE, Hoffman Estates, Illinois
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

A Mislead Boy
Steve wasn’t your ordinary teenage boy. He lived in Chicago, Illinois and grew up in the wrong neighborhood, with all the wrong people, seeing all the wrong things. He had no father and although he loved his mother very much, she was never there for him. His mother was jobless and spent her days messed up on the couch in there two bedroom apartment, only leaving to pick up her food stamps and sell them soon after for drug money. In order to survive, it was up to Steve to find his own food and make his own money. Which he did by stealing from the local gas station just down the road from his house.
All Steve ever wanted was to be rich. He saw the millionaires. He wanted to drive a nice car, and live in a big house, and even buy his mom her own house all for herself.
As you can imagine, any teenage boy with a drug fiend for a mother wasn’t the wisest and didn't always make the best decisions. Steve’s friends were not the brightest kid with the most responsible parents either. They were other drop outs like him who spent most of their time harassing girls, dealing drugs, and causing trouble in any way that they could. Steve knew what the boys did was wrong, but he participated anyway. And it wasn’t long before Steve started dealing himself.
After making some quick cash, Steve eventually got busted by the police and got locked up in Cook County jail. He didn’t stay for long though because in a selfish and desperate move, he ratted all of his friends out for a shorter sentence. When Steve finally did get out, all the other thugs he hung out with didn’t think he was bad anymore and were mad that he ratted out all his friends.
Steve, feeling that he had something to prove, started dealing harder than ever before. He would smoke weed until he passed out and was making twice as much money as he was before he went to jail. He would buy stuff for his friends, rob innocent people, get into fights constantly, and do anything he could do to prove to his friends he was still bad.
Eventually, fed up with all the kids he was trying to impress, Steve decided to do his own thing and decided he doesn't have anything to prove to anyone but himself. He gave up on selling weed and even using himself, and decided that the real money lied in the cocaine business.
So Steve headed out to his old friend Arthur’s house, a boy he knew from school that he had heard had been slinging coke for some time. When he arrived, he couldn’t help but notice the Mercedes in his driveway. Steve knocked on the door and went inside to discuss business.
Arthur and his gang were not impressed with Steve. They looked at him with disgust and told him that if he wanted to get in on the coke business, he needed to prove himself. They explained that any punk could sell drugs or get into fights against bums but only a real thug could stab an innocent person to death.
So late that night, Steve along with Arthur and his gang sat out front of Arthurs house and waited for the perfect victim to walk past. At about 3A.M., a man with a hood came walking down the block and when he was just in front of the house, Steve took one swing with a metal bat knocking him to the ground. The man screamed but Steve and the gang threw a shirt over his head, and choked him out as they dragged him into the alley next to Arthurs house. They beat the hooded man senseless until he had no energy left to scream. Then two of Arthur's men dragged him to his feet. Arthur handed Steve the knife and told him that this was his chance to prove that he was a real thug.
Steve took the knife and thought about the house, cars, and everything he has ever dreamed of. He felt strong, and gripping the knife tight began stabbing the man in chest. After seven jabs with the knife, Arthur’s men dropped the lifeless body and shook Steves hand with respect. But before the men headed back, Steve wanted to see the face of his victim. But when he removed the shirt from the man’s head and pulled off his hood, it was the last thing Steve ever saw. It was no man at all. Steve stared directly at the face of his own mother, whom he had just stabbed senseless.
Arthur asked Steve what was wrong but it was too late. Steve slit his own throat on the spot and was never heard of again. A mislead boy with the same dreams as you and I now was just one more soul wasted in Chicago.



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