N A M E: Jasmine Bonita González-Amador
A G E: 26
P L A C E O F O R I G I N: Viñales, Cuba
G R O U P: V. A. Medical Center
O C C U P A T I O N: Carer
F C: Ana de Armas
❝ The world we know is gone. But keeping our humanity? That’s a choice. ❞
↪ p e r s o n a l i t y ;
P O S I T I V E T R A I T S: sanguine ; tenderhearted
N E G A T I V E T R A I T S: recalcitrant ; grueling
L I F E B E F O R E T H E O U T B R E A K:
It was a constant battle. Will we be evicted this month? Can we pay for Jasmine to go to school, or will she have to drop out? Questions like these were asked on a daily when Jasmine’s family was living in Cuba. Arguments broke out on a day-to-day basis, plates would get thrown at walls, veins would become visible through flesh, and tears would roll down cheeks. The money situation had took a toll on her parents——seeing them basically grow apart in front of her own eyes always left an UNEASY feeling in her stomach. Promises of a better life and better pay in America overwhelmed them, and they found themselves setting foot on U.S.A. soil in a matter of months. It was supposed to be the family’s big break—the glue to hold the brokenness together. However, after their citizenships were finalized, a divorce was signed and sealed, and Jasmine found herself moving with her mother, leaving her father all alone.
Her mother ended up marrying some rich bank broker and moved to upstate New York, while her father stayed in Georgia trying to scrape by. Alejandra Johnson was her mother’s new name. It left a sour taste in her mouth, mainly due to the sour relationship between Jasmine and her stepfather, Edgar. Jasmine was nothing more than loose ends from his new wife’s old husband, and though he did clothe and feed her, no love was present. Jasmine’s relationship with her father went from a phone call every day, to a call once a month, and eventually to a call only on Christmas. Visitation was not in the equation——her mother forbid it. But on her fifteenth Christmas, her father didn’t pick up the phone. He didn’t answer mama, is he okay? All her mother could do was shrug it off, and tell her to keep on trying. Call after call, voicemail after voicemail, there were no signs of communication from him. Finally, after begging to see him, a fifteen year old Jasmine was flown to Georgia to surprise her father after FIVE years.
A cracked door. That’s all that welcomed her as she stood on the steps of the porch that belonged to the first American house her family had stepped foot in. Jasmine called out to him from the first step, then gradually got louder as she approached the door. Her hand pushed it open all the way, eyes glancing on the floor to see dust and leaves piled up on cheap wood. The floor still squeaked like it did when she was younger, though the house had more dust than usual. It had a faint stale smell to it, the smell of an unoccupied home. Pictures were still nailed to the walls, a few cups were still stacked on the coffee table. Another dad, you here? and still nothing. Jasmine searched the house, from top until bottom, and had yet to find any sign of her father. An immediate phone call went out to her mother, whom was just about to board the plane. He’s probably with some friends, or maybe he’s been staying with a new woman. There’s obviously a reasonable explanation for this. Her mother’s intuition didn’t cease the thought that had spread throughout her mind——has something happened to her father?
Just a few months after filing the missing person report, it was proclaimed they were looking for a body. A year after that, they stopped looking. There are no new leads, Mrs. Johnson, I’m sorry. If her mother was torn up about the whole fiasco, she didn’t show it. Edgar and her mother took many vacations after that, leaving Jasmine to stay with Edgar’s sister, Julie. Despite Jasmine’s efforts to have a semi-friendly relationship with the woman, it wasn’t reciprocated. As time went on, Jasmine couldn’t help but find herself wondering what would have happened if she would have stayed with her father. Would he still be in his home in Georgia, ALIVE? Would her mother be the loving individual she was BEFORE? On her eighteenth birthday, she spent it alone in the enormous house in upstate New York by herself. After a few drinks, intoxication blindly led her to the decision to snatch up all the valuables and money she could find, and move to Los Angeles. L.A. was known for helping other’s achieve their dreams, so what could it offer to a fresh high school eighteen year old graduate with a heart of gold? Nothing.
Moving to the city of angels wasn’t the most intelligent idea the young girl had had. Surprisingly, her mother and stepfather didn’t dare to look for her, which was bitter-sweet. No police report had been filed for the missing objects and money Jasmine had snatched from that lonely house. The city had no more opportunity for her than the last, and she found herself working three jobs to pay for a mediocre one bedroom apartment. A call a year after her big move left her feeling emotions she couldn’t sort through——her mother had passed after a fatal heart attack. She had been in a coma for months, we thought she would get better. The doctor’s told me that she wasn’t coming out. So I-I pulled the cord. I’m sorry. The call ended. Edgar didn’t seem to be emotional over it, didn’t seem to care. Jasmine took a couple of weeks from working to be able to recollect herself. Though, her mother had changed greatly, her death only added another burden to her soul. If a funeral DID happen, she wasn’t notified————she wasn’t even informed on WHERE she was buried. She just held onto the thought that maybe her mother and father are somewhere together and happy. A childish belief, but one that kept her going.
L I F E D U R I N G T H E O U T B R E A K:
Panic flooded the streets of Los Angeles. Jasmine was caught in the middle, wondering what had happened and what was to come. There was so much she wanted to do, but it seemed that time wasn’t on her side. She knew she had to get out of the city, get somewhere safe and secure. But WHERE? Jasmine ended up staying with some friends from work at a camp on the outskirts of L.A. The protection was low, the food was low, and they slowly were running out of both water and H O P E. One day on the radio, they heard a voice speaking about some place in Wyoming. The transmission was faint as the survivors sat in a circle trying to decipher what place they were discussing. Did they say Charlotte? No, Jessie, that’s in one of the Carolina’s. Shut up, I can’t hear! Calm down, I think they said Cheyenne. Cheyenne? Where the hell is Cheyenne? Obviously in Wyoming. Oh, we HAVE to get there, it sounds so nice. What if it’s a trap? The group decided it was best to STAY where they were. Jasmine completely disagreed and tried to express how badly they needed to evacuate. No one believed her.
The next week was an even she would never forget. Out of nowhere, the undead swarmed them like flies on shit. The ones they didn’t tear apart ran for the hills, leaving Jasmine stuck between a rock and a hard place. She wasn’t prepared. She didn’t have an escape bag or anything that she could just grab and go. All she had was a knife and some pistol she snatched from the bloody fingers of one of her closest friends. It was now her against everything———just like her childhood.
L I F E A F T E R T H E O U T B R E A K:
When she finally arrived in Wyoming, a huge weight was lifted off her shoulders. Jasmine could smile again and for once, she finally had more than a simple belief to give her hope. In the back of her mind, she couldn’t help but wonder what her father would do in her situation. He was her hero——a man that could do no wrong and seemed to save everyone around him, despite how tight financial burdens were around his throat. Now, she always tries to be optimistic—a glass half full type of gal. Jasmine tries her best to help anyone and everyone out as much as she can, mainly because she had been in predicaments before the apocalypse that most teenagers shouldn’t have been in. The young woman hadn’t changed much from the fresh-faced eighteen year old that had moved to Los Angeles years ago———now she’s just survivin’ and keepin’ her humanity in tact.
