The Saints and The Jewels.
Two rival gangs in a small town in America 1960's.
Both fight for dominance and total control. The Saints, descendants of Hispanic immigrants who lack money but make up for in family. The Jewels, rich American teens who b...
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Antonio’s POV
“I need to get to Mike. I need to make sure he’s okay! Fuck! I can’t sit here! They’re gonna kill him if they find him! I need to go!” I shouted.
“Antonio! Calmate!” Dolores shouted. She made me sit down on my bed as she applied antiseptics and a bandage to my shoulder where the bullet grazed me.
“Dolores! I need to find Mike!” I told her.
“I know, Antonio. But you can’t leave.” She told me. She was referring to the nearly a dozen guys who were stationed at every side of our house. Each of these guys were either strong as hell, or had knives on them. They’re trained to fight.
I hissed when Dolores patted on my cut. I can’t believe I got shot. Well, not shot exactly. But almost. Kinda.
“I don’t want you going out. Now that Mike was here, everything is going to go down.” Dolores said.
“You think this is gonna cause a fight?” I asked.
“Most likely a rumble. Not just a fight.” Dolores said.
“Are you gonna go to sleep? We kinda woke you up.” I told her.
“Well, I feel like you might sneak out. But there are people guarding the outside.” I began to come up with a plan.
“I won’t leave. Like you said, it’s too dangerous.” I told her. She kissed my head and stood up, gathering her medical supplies.
“I’m going to bed. Don’t stay up. And if your wound hurts, put ice on it.” Dolores said. She walked out of my room and turned off the lights.
I was left in my room in the dark, seething from the pain. I tried to look for the bullet but saw it went either in the walls or exited through the roof.
Carefully, I put on a thick denim jacket and made my way to the front door. As soon as I opened it, I was met face to face with Juan.
“What do you want?” He asked me. He stood taller than me. He had black curly hair, dark brown eyes, and had tattoos littering his body. He wore a white tank top and a burgundy flannel over it.
“Oh, hi Juan.” I said shyly to him. He always scared me. I know he never really liked me. He hated that Manny would put protection on me even though I was never a member.
“Get back inside.” He said and started to push me back inside.
“Wait!” I blurted out. He stopped, scoffed, and crossed his arms.
“Ahora que quieres? (Now what do you want?)” He asked.
“Just let me through. I’ll be quick, please?” I asked.
Juan chuckled. “No way. Rafa’s orders.” He said.
“Yeah, well, as Manuel’s little brother, I order you to let me out.” I cringed as I said that.
