The man drops dead on his back, eyes opened. The little boy didn’t know what to do, seeing his father bloodied, unmoving. His father was killed by the authorities who barged in their house in the middle of the night, yelling words he did not comprehend.
“Dad? Dad? What happened to you? Dad!” He relentlessly shakes his father, hoping for some glimpse of response, but nothing. His dad was no father, filled with alcohol and drugs. But all the same, he was his father. Never once did he hurt him, not even a bit. The little boy cried for a long time realizing that he was left alone, no relatives of his own, no mother, no siblings, nothing. He slept beside his dead father, relishing his last moments with him.
He woke up to someone nudging him, and a voice saying, “Charlie? Wake up. Charlie? Charlie.” The voice was sweet, too sweet. He slowly opened his eyes while adjusting to the bright light around him. It looks like a hospital. Almost. “Where am I? Where’s my dad?” he said while frantically looking around. “You’re in an orphanage, Charlie.” The woman smiled while stroking his hair. Something about her made the hairs on his arms stand on end.
He tried to remember what happened yesterday, at least, it has only been a day yet, right? He remembered his dad being gunned down by but then he remembered the lady sitting beside his bed, so he quickly wiped the incoming tears and asked again, “What am I doing here?” The woman stood up, closed the lights and opened the blinds in his room. “We found you sleeping alone outside the streets, shaking in the cold and we couldn’t leave you there so we took you in. It was really strange to find you lying on the ground like that. Where are your parents?” She was staring at him straight in the eye and it was eerie. He looked away.
He got out of bed, attempting to get out of the room and get out of this creepy place, but the woman blocked the door. “Where are you going, Charlie? We’re going to take care of you here so there’s no need to be afraid.”
“I don’t want to be here.” At that moment did it only occur to him that she has been saying his name for a couple of times now. He didn’t even know her. “How did you know my name?”
“What do you mean? Everybody knows everybody here. I’m Clarisse, remember?” Who is she and how did I even get here? This is ridiculous. “I don’t. Will you just open the door?”
Surprisingly, she did. Charlie was dumb-founded. It was not a hospital nor was it an orphanage. It seems to be a den disguised as an apartment. Filthy kids were running about in the alley and the walls were grimy and looked like it hasn’t been cleaned for months. It was a complete opposite of the pristine room he stayed in. “What is this place?” Charlie asked.
The woman passed by a couple of rooms and when she noticed that Charlie wasn’t following, she looked back and motioned for him to come over. He did, passing by kids his age smoking marijuana and playing cards as if those were the usual things a 12-year old is supposed to be doing. The woman finally came to a halt and said to Charlie, “I’ll be leaving you here. Take care, alright?” She patted Charlie’s head and gave another one of those eerie smiles. Charlie tried hard not to think about it too much and entered the room.
The room was dimly lit and there were people playing cards as well. But this time, they were adults. There were four of them. One of them laid eyes on Charlie and said, “Why are you just standing there? C’mere boy.” Charlie strode forward, calculating each step. Every step seems to be more dangerous than the other. “Alright, kid. You’re gonna be hitting the streets from now on. We need to earn money and fast. If you don’t, you get left behind. And when you get left behind, you’re dead. That’s how things work around in here. You got it?” The man was smoking a cigarette and blew the smoke straight to his face. He was too scary to contradict but Charlie summed up enough courage to ask questions. “I’m sorry but this must be a misunderstanding. I don’t belong here. My father was killed and I—“ Suddenly, Charlie felt a stinging pain on his face. Only did he realize that he was punched. “Look, kid, I don’t give a shit if your father was killed, or your mother, or your dog. It’s either you work here or you can follow the footsteps of your father. What’s it going to be?” Charlie was too terrified to even utter a word and so he hung his head low, hoping for some sort of miracle. In the end, there was none.
He worked on the streets day and night, picking pockets from stranger to stranger. Charlie didn’t like what he was doing, but he didn’t like to die either. Eventually, as he grew older, Charlie learned to smoke cigarettes, smoke drugs, and drink alcohol. He uses profanity as greetings and finally became part of the filthy den he lived in. What started out as a forced occupation turned out to be a fun hobby for Charlie.
Six years had passed. One evening, while he was walking along the street, he noticed a silhouette constantly following him. The street was empty, save for them two. It was a man, hiding in a trench coat and a cap, head hung low. Charlie held his knife in his pocket, like a lion ready to pounce. Before the man could get any closer, he faced him, knife in hand and said, “You’ve been following me for a couple of minutes, man. What the hell do you want?” The man neither spoke nor move and stayed in the position he was before. Then, he removed his cap and looked in Charlie’s eyes. Eyes filled with remorse and longing. Eyes that were hurt.
Charlie knew those eyes. The same eyes that drowned in blood that cold September night, leaving him in the fray. “Dad? What? How? Why? I thought you were dead. How did you find me?” There they were again. Those bloodshot eyes. “I’m sorry, Charlie. I had to leave you at the time. They were going to kill you if I didn’t. I already lost your mother and I couldn’t lose you too. I’m sorry Charlie. I’m sorry...” Charlie was lost for words. He didn’t know what to do, and he didn’t know what to think. Seeing his father alive and moving was already too much for him. There were a lot of tof things he wanted to say, lots of questions he wanted to ask, but where to start? “Charlie, you have to listen to me. If they find out you’re my son, they’ll kill you. You need to leave that place immediately.” What is he saying? Despite the consequences he had gone through, the gang is his family now. He couldn’t just leave them, no. “Dad, what are you saying? This is stupid, you should just leave.”
Just then, a group of cars arrives at the scene, surrounding Charlie and his father. A man gets out of the car, the same man who punched him six years ago. It was Mr. Ramirez. “Well, well, well what is this? A family reunion of some sort? I didn’t even know you had a fucking son, Frank.” “This is all a big misunderstanding. You don’t have to do—“ Mr. Ramirez points a gun right at Frank’s face. “Dad, what’s happen-“ He points another gun to Charlie. “You don’t get a say in this, kid. You’ve worked hard, but knowing you’re a child of Frank here is unforgivable. You don’t only owe me gold, Frank. You owe me a life.” Charlie had no idea what was happening but what he did know was his dad was going to die right here, right now if he stands there like an idiot. What do I do? This is Mr. Ramirez we’re talking about! He raised me like his own kid.
He spots an open alley just by the side. Dad can escape from there. I just need a distraction. “Alright, I’m not wasting any more time on you, sons of bitches. See you in hell.” Before Mr. Ramirez could even pull the trigger, Charlie kicks him in the gut and steals the gun away from him with no problem, facing death so many times. “Dad! You need to go!” He looks at the alley and then to his dad. What felt like five seconds, felt like an eternity. There was no turning back. Frank stands there motionless, staring at Charlie as if memorizing every bit of a painting that was about to fade away. “Dad! RUN!” Frank holds Charlie’s hand. They share one last look.
The bullet hit Mr. Ramirez at the head, but it was incomparable to the rain of bullets that breached Frank and Charlie’s bodies all the same. There was no escape this time. No morning to wake up to, no more tears to be shed. The sun had already set.
