Mi Amor - Oscar 'Spooky' Diaz/On my block Story

29

After Oscar dropped me off, I barely had time to settle in before my phone rang. It was Dwayne.

"Hey, Elly, sorry to bother you," he said. "I know it's your day off, but I could really use a hand for a couple of hours loading up some supplies. Would you mind helping me out?"

"No problem," I replied. "I don't mind at all. Give me a few minutes, and I'll be there."

"You're a lifesaver," he said gratefully. "I'm getting too old for this—my back can't handle all that lifting alone anymore."

It took me around twenty minutes to get to the restaurant. Heading straight to the back entrance, I found Dwayne already hauling boxes. I joined him, and we got right to work, transferring the heavy containers into the pantry.

After a few minutes, a strange scraping sound echoed from outside. I froze, turning towards the sound, and saw a group of guys, the same ones who had approached Oscar earlier, making their way toward us with a few new faces in tow. One of them dragged a metal baseball bat across the asphalt, the sharp screech sending a chill down my spine.

My pulse quickened, and I whispered urgently to Dwayne, "Dwayne! Look!"

He turned, confusion giving way to realization as he saw them approach. One of the gang members, dressed in purple like the rest, grinned maliciously and muttered something in Spanish.

"We're gonna bust your head in," he spat, though I couldn't tell if he meant me or Dwayne. Either way, dread clawed its way into my stomach.

Dwayne put down the box he was holding, squaring his shoulders. I sensed he was bracing himself for a fight, and with no other choice, I steeled myself too.

"Go, Elly," he muttered firmly. "This has nothing to do with you."

"I can't just leave you here," I protested, panic rising in my voice.

"Really, you can't go anywhere," one of the guys sneered. "You're here to send a message back to your Santo. We'll make sure you've got a lot to say when this is over."

With that, three of them stormed inside the restaurant, and the sound of smashing glass and splintering wood filled the air. I clenched my fists, hoping that at least they'd focus on the property rather than us. But the three who remained outside were not going to let us off so easily.

One of the gang members lunged at Dwayne, landing a hard punch to his jaw, then followed up by grabbing his collar and slamming him to the ground. I shouted, begging them to stop, but they ignored me, kicking Dwayne relentlessly.

One of the men pressed Dwayne's face into the pavement with his boot. Anger and desperation filled me as I saw the blood smearing on the asphalt. I couldn't just watch this. In a surge of adrenaline, I threw myself at the guy, shoving him to the ground. Caught off guard, he stumbled and fell with me on top of him.

But the moment was short-lived. He pushed me off roughly, scrambling to his feet. Still sprawled on the ground, I kicked him as hard as I could in the stomach. He let out a grunt and fell back again.

Both of us scrambled to our feet, but this time, he was quicker. He came toward me, grabbing my wrists and pinning me against the wall. His grip was hard, and his body pressed against mine, making any escape nearly impossible.

In a final act of defiance, I jerked my head forward and smashed my forehead against his nose. He let go with a howl, staggering back and clutching his bleeding nose. For a second, a flash of satisfaction ran through me—until I saw the anger flare in his eyes. Before I could even register what happened, his fist came down hard, and the world spun as I collapsed to the ground.