My brother was some big shot. He, and the rest of our family, was being transported, and I knew there was a trap awaiting him, an attempt on his life.
I knew, but didn't tell anyone (not sure why), and I knew that I was prepared to take one for the family. As we were leaving, my mom complimented me on my sweater, and I said thank you, thinking it would be last time I'd ever wear it.
We were on a bus with a bunch of other people, and I didn't trust anyone. At every stop light, I'd make him duck under the window. Finally, I saw the shooter, and I jumped in front of him, and I stared at the shooter, until the shot hit me in the chest.