CHAPTER 1 (THE BEGINNING)

174 18 16
                                    

COLOMBIA 2014
Somewhere in South America, Colombia, was rising heat. Rebels were causing havoc all over the country. The reason being inequality. The federal government was just not being fair with Colombia. At least, that was what they thought. Some Colombians were fairly rich, yes, but some lived in pretty harsh conditions.

The Ghetto it was called, was the place the poor people lived. The ghetto people just couldn't understand why. They would sweat and toil but came back home with literally nothing. Whenever they wanted to go to the "big institutions and companies" they were denied entry or employment.

"WHY?! Just why?" they would ask.

Some accepted their place and worked extra hours to make ends meet, but the rebels just wanted to have a share of all the 'goodies' the rich had. They started this whole war.

"Maybe," they thought, ''the government would listen then.''

The rebellion first started with attacks on police stations. They took all the weapons they could find. They were not surprised when the attack was reported on the news but no action was taken against them.

"Of course no one cares," they said.

The rebels continued the attack on all police stations in Colombia. The government still made no move against them. Then, the rebels came up with another plan. Bloodshed. They thought maybe, this would make their voices and appeals, loud and clear.

They started the attacks on minted Colombians. They were lenient on the kind ones but killed the wicked stubborn ones who sided with the Central government. It did not end at the killing. They would steal all their money and valuables, burn their houses and paint the walls with their blood. The words read: THERE WILL BE MORE BLOOD AND ASH IF YOU DON'T LISTEN!!

This time around the central government heard and listened. The bloodshed was becoming more severe day by day, and fear grew in every Colombian including nearby countries. When the government finally decided to make a move, the rebels had no patience left. They refused all negotiations and continued to cause a rampage. The Ghetto they were fighting for was also affected by this but there was no turning back. The streets were filled with so much blood. Every parent, individual and child lived in fear. They say, "With a little bloodshed comes the bloodthirst. And that thirst can never be quenched with any other thing, not even riches, just blood."

The ghetto, before that, was a peaceful community, where everyone lived in peace with their neighbour. Even if there was an argument or misunderstanding, it was settled before the sun set. The houses in the ghetto were mostly made of wood, roofed with rusted iron sheets. Only a few were built with bricks, broken and stolen bricks to be precise.

The ghetto was denied development opportunities because of how tough the people who lived there were. The people in the capital knew that if they enjoyed equal opportunities with them, the ghetto would expand and grow into a mini-independent country of its own. So for years, as the federal government turned a blind eye on them, criminals made it their cradle. The level of vices in the ghetto increased due to this, but no move was made against them.

The ghetto grew to become a scary place, but the people were still united and unshaken by how the outside world treated them. That was the reason why Wolf organised a demonstration there, and they all supported him. That was also the reason why they were able to cause so much destruction. They were a strong and united people.

Cecilia lived a few blocks away from the ghetto. Her mother was one of the people who worked her ass off to get something on the table by the end of the day. Cecilia lost her dad at a very young age and she barely remembered what he was like. The only thing she could remember was his face, because she would always stare at the old wedding picture frame of him and her mother. She looked a lot more like him than her mother.

"If you were alive, you would have been my favourite parent. And I would have had a little brother or sister. O ambos, o tal vez más," she would joke any time she felt lonely and missed her dad. But that joke held so much hope. It wasn't just a joke, Cecilia genuinely wished her dad was alive.

The ghetto was literally her second home and she would play all day with her friend, Charles, who lived in the ghetto. Charles and Cecilia also went to the same school and would walk together after school just to talk and play. They were each other's company, since it looked like they were both in the same soup. Charles lived with both parents though, but he was still lonely because people made fun of him at school. Cecilia was the only one who didn't. That's why he liked her. To him, she was an angel.

Cilia, as she was called by the few people who knew her, was a shy girl, but she was also very lively. Her mother was a little overprotective and would warn her not to mingle with the ghetto people, including Charles. Charles was not a bad boy though. He helped Cilia at school every day and they were in the same class even though Charles was older. He was eighteen and Cilia was fourteen, but they were the best of friends.

When the rampage started, schools were closed down and so was Cilia's world. She no longer went to the ghetto, now the most dangerous place in the whole of Colombia. She was also forced to stop communicating with Charles. She always looked out her window to look at the bloody street, which was once her playing ground. She would see Charles one moment, the next moment he would be gone.

She missed her old life-- running around the ghetto, talking with Charles about their childhood dreams and adult fantasies, and that kid in the hood who spoke to no one. She wondered why she missed even him.

"Must be the effect of being locked up in your own home," she chuckled sadly. She just wanted to be free, like a bird.

She would sometimes see the rebels out of her window and wish she had some kind of magic to wipe them all out. Her mother would pull her from the window preaching to her how dangerous it is even to sit by the window. Cecilia would fume red with anger but then she would just breakdown and cry. There was something about Charles Cilia didn't know. Then again, it wasn't really his fault after all.

A/N: Kindly comment and share.
This is my first published story. Please I really need your ratings, votes and comments.
You can follow me on Facebook @ Chrysty Bella.
Instagram @ chrys_b14.
Thank you💜💜

The Patriots Where stories live. Discover now