In the morning, I feel a heaviness in the air. As I go down to breakfast, I see my parents have sensed the shift too. They look more on edge as if something big was coming. I eat breakfast quietly. Mom talks about what needs to be done around the house. I think she is trying to give me a lot of chores to keep me in the house. I go outside on the back porch when Mom asks me to water the plants. She watches me for a few minutes before going back inside. Once she is in, I turn off the water and crouch low below the windows as I sneak around the side of the house. I take one look back at my home and the parents I am leaving behind before walking down the street on my way to the church. The sun peeks out behind a cloud, making my walk a lot brighter. When I finally arrive, I see a large group of people gathered in front of the church. I look around to see if I can spot any familiar faces, until my eyes land on my teacher, Mrs. Margaret Moore. I walk over to her and she greets me with a hug. “I’ll be right back,” I tell her. I continue to walk around the crowd, searching for my best friend. I finally find her hiding in the doorway of the church. When I ask why she was in the doorway, she tells me she is hiding from her parents. I spot them on the other side of the crowd talking with some people. She and I walk around the group, careful to avoid her parents until we meet up with Mrs. Moore. “Mrs. Moore, this is Rachel. She and I have been coming to the meetings.” “It is very nice to meet you, Rachel,” She says. She pauses, examining our faces, “Are you two girls alright, you don’t look so great”. I look at Rachel. Her face is pale, and her eyes are darting around the crowd. Her lips are pressed together in a small frown, and her breathing is a bit more rapid than normal. I realize that I must look the same, because I have to focus on slowing down my breathing. I discreetly check my pulse, and it is a lot faster than I expected. We are both freaking out about the march that is to come. “To be honest,” I say, “I am really nervous about the march. What if someone gets hurt?” Mrs. Moore looks at us with concern for a few minutes. She gets down on her knee, so she can look at us in the eye. “Don’t be afraid, you will be fine. If you are scared, no one is going to judge you if you turn around. You have already gone above and beyond any expectations anyone might have of you just by being here. There is no shame in keeping yourself safe, and marching is putting yourself in danger. We have no way of knowing what the future may bring. The only thing we can do is pray to the Lord to keep us safe. He is the only one who can protect us in times like this. Would you like to pray with me?”. Of course we want to pray with her. I want to do everything I possibly can to keep us safe today, and reaching out to God is a great idea. Mrs. Moore prays for our safety and successfulness with this march. We pray that people would see us as an example and help end the inequality and make voting fair and accessible to all. Amen. Once we finish, we are asked to line up. I stand hand in hand with Mrs. Moore on my left and Rachel on my right. This is it. The moment I have been waiting for. Everyone seems nervous, but we seem to be standing together strong. Although I am scared, I feel determined. We pray all together one last time before we begin our march. As we move, I feel my heart beat faster. We walk through street after street, showing people that we are standing up for ourselves and our values. We are here, and we want change. Things are going well. This is good, I feel important. I am part of this. With Mrs. Moore and Rachel by my side, I can get through this. I look at Rachel, and she does not seem to be in as good a mood as I am. She has a frown on her face and her steps seem to falter from time to time. After a while, a breeze picks up which makes clouds roll in. It seems to get darker as the sun hides behind the clouds. Finally, I see the top Edmund Pettus Bridge down the street. There are murmurs ahead of us, but the adults block the view. I hear murmurs from the people in front of us. Something about police, block, and stopping. I hear footsteps to my right, and I turn to see Rachel running away. I don’t blame her, because as we spread out into lines across that bridge, I see the horror in front of us. There are hundreds of policemen spread across the bridge blocking our path. There were state troopers and angry dogs. There were people on horses and with billy clubs. They order us to turn back, but we stand our ground. This is it. This could be the end. Those men in front of us have anger in their eyes. As the dogs' bark and the horses stomp their hooves, I begin to cry. My heart is pounding, I have never been more terrified in my life. Mrs. Moore looks down at me and sees the tears on my face. She takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. There are no words of encouragement now, and I can see that she is scared too. Some of the ministers towards the front shout, “Kneel down and pray!”. That’s all we can do. I kneel on the asphalt and pray. I say, “Lord, help me”. Then the screams begin. I look up, only to see clouds of tear gas being unleashed. The police have broken formation and begin to beat anyone they can get to. I scramble to my feet and run. I run faster than I ever have before. As soon as I make it to the end of the bridge I glance behind me. I see horses galloping behind me, right at me. I try to run faster, but I cannot. They are getting closer to me, closer. The trampling of their hooves is deafening, and I can feel their hot breath on the back of my neck. Is this how I die? I think. Am I going to die here? I continue to run, but the horses are faster. The only thing I can do now is to continue to fight, continue to move, even if I am defeated in the end. I won’t give up. I keep on running. Then, suddenly, out of nowhere, I feel two strong arms lift me up and pull me out of the way. I am being carried away. I look up to see who my rescuer is, and I look into the face of Hosea Williams. A freedom fighter who has always been kind to me whenever I run into me. He has rescued me. I look around and see other people passing us. My weight must be causing him to run more slowly. “Put me down!” I say, “You’re not running fast enough!” He sets me down, and we both run away from that bridge as fast as we could. I keep running. I run and run all the way home. When I get there, I see my Mom and Dad, my siblings, all waiting for me at the door. But I am so scared, so shocked, that I run right past them and up the stairs and to my room. I can hear sirens out my open window. I can hear people crying out in the street. I am still terrified. I hear footsteps as my parents come into my room. Instead of anger at my disobedience, their eyes are full of kindness. They sit on my bed with me trying to calm me down, but I am so full of adrenaline and fear and shock that I cannot process what they are saying. They stay with me for hours, holding onto me tightly. Finally, I begin to calm down and think about what I just went through. I could have died, but I didn’t. I am alive, and here in my room, on my bed, with my parents. I am safe.