"𝑨𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝑰 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒐?"
___________
⚠️sᴛɪʟʟ ᴇᴅɪᴛɪɴɢ⚠️
___________
Haunted by the night when me and my mother were forced away from our daily lives in Mexico...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
-Flash back-
The weather was suffocating that day.
I stood in the middle of Mexico City, underneath the soaring heat, near a miserable-looking building. It was abandoned and had been turned into a playground for the homeless children around.
That made sense. They were the perfect victims for drug dealers, in the perfect location. There were no police cars, no respectable adults, and no proper decent humans around.
That's why the supplier asked me to come there because it didn't matter if they saw a kid or an adult, in that place no one cared. It was the favorite type of place and background for dealing and sniffing, and perhaps overdosing too. Maybe the client who was on their way right now would be like the man... or corpse behind me.
They would take too many lines of coke and, after that, death. Yet another sad ending. But that was the ending they knew very well and still chose.
Or maybe that's what my eight-year-old sense of justice was saying to keep my sanity in check. To stop me from realizing that I was becoming the villain in every superhero show. The one who hurts others and blames it on their own hurt. But I'm not like that. I keep reassuring myself. Nor is Mama. We're just giving them what they want.
We are not the ones hurting them. They're the ones hurting themselves.
A small vibration circulating between my hands brought my attention to it. I looked down at my hand to see the phone the supplier gave me buzzing. The Nokia phone, or 'brick' as the mocking kids who held a tablet and ran past me on my way there called it.
I picked it up and as the name read, it was the supplier for whom Mama and I worked. I put it against my ear and Spanish profanities poisoned my innocence. "El puto cliente no va a aparecer, el sobre se estropeó."
Translation: The fucking customer isn't going to show up, he overdosed.
"Trae tu pequeño de vuelta al escondite y no te atrevas a quedarte atrapado con las drogas," he spat and ended the call.
Translation: Bring your little ass back to the hideaway and don't you dare get caught with the drugs.
Walking at a pace I decided to infuriate the supplier, it started to get dark. The sun started setting and I felt the temperature change. The feeling alone made my stomach turn upside down. This felt like an omen. Even though I doubted God would give a person like me, who was helping and aiding in killing His creations, a warning.
Despite my conscience nagging me at the wrong time, I picked up my pace because something felt very off-putting and my gut was telling me I needed to hurry up.
