Charles Turner was Cilia's best friend from the ghetto. He never acted like he was from the ghetto though. He was a real gentleman and he irritated his dad a lot. No one would believe if they were told his father was the leader of the rebels. Wolf, they called his dad. His father tried so hard to make him drop out of school and to push him into the rebel activities, but he refused. He would sometimes come back from school to meet a crying mother and loads of chores. Sometimes, he earned a beating for himself.
His only dream was to live a better life outside the ghetto. He knew he could only achieve it if he studied and became the best.
"I'll be so perfect at any thing I do that, they won't even second guess me," he always said to himself.
His father, on the other hand, would always yell at him, "Stop daydreaming! No matter how hard you work or learn, there'll be no place for you out there. I've been there before. People easily forget how much you sacrificed for them. You'll always be forgotten and you'll always be rejected, because you're from the ghetto!"
Charles never allowed those words to get to him. Not even a single day passes by without him working towards him dream.
He missed his best friend, Cilia. She was the only one who never made fun of him just because he was older than all the other students in class. He just didn't understand why people could be so mean, even kids who were as young as twelve, all because of their social status and wealth.
"I don't blame them. The system must change. That's the only way they can all change," he'll mumble to himself whenever he was alone thinking.
During the rebellion, there was a search conducted to recruit strong people, including women, to join the rebellion. Charles, being the son of the rebel leader, was expected to join his father's cause. But to the complete shock of the people, he refused. No matter the number of times he was threatened, no matter how bad he was treated by his own father; all the beatings and starving, he still refused to join the rebellion. One day after going out to peep at Cilia through her window, he came back home to meet the shock of his life.
His mother was badly beaten and tied to a chair, with a knife held to her throat by some of the high ranking rebels, in the presence of his father. His mother was so weak, she could barely keep her eyes open.
"How...how could you do this to your own wife?! I always believed you were not this cruel, that it was those bloodthirsty diablos who were manipulating you. It turns out I was wrong. You are a MONSTER!", Charles said his eyes red with anger and disgust.
He felt warm liquid fill his mouth and he tasted the calcium and ironic contents of his own blood. His father had punched him so hard in the cheek.
"You never, ever in you pathetic life speak to me like that again!" he spat.
"I've warned you several times, but you never listened. Everything happening right now is all your fault. You could have stopped all this by just joining the rebellion. Eres demasiado terco,"
"Let's see if he can act tough now," One of the rebels sneered.
They threatened to kill his mother if he didn't join the rebels. His mother was the only one he could talk to, his only support and angel apart from his best friend. He couldn't let her die. All his hopes and dreams came shattering done right before his eyes in that moment. The tears rolled down his face as he stared blankly at his father in utter shock.
His dad walk closer to him and whispered into his ears, "I just want what's best for you hijo. This will be over soon and you'll be able to live your life the way you please. One day you'll understand."
Charles slowly truned to look at his weak mother. She would have told him to disagree. She would rather die than to see her son fighting with the rebels, he knew it, but he couldn't bear the pain. He had already lost his father. The man standing before him now was a stranger he didn't know. He had to save the only parent he had left.
With a deep breath of submission, he finally said the words, "Yes, I will join the rebellion." He knew his mother would never forgive herself. He knew Cilia would hate him too. But he had no choice, he hoped that one day, they'd understand.
He was taken to a base in the darkest part of the ghetto and there his training begun. Guns, knives, grenades of all kinds. This was his life now and no matter how much he hated it, that was his only option. Whenever they passed by Cilia's house after an attack, he hid his face and made sure she never saw him. He would sometimes cry all alone in his secret place at the base-- a place where he could escape the horror of a life he was now living.
He would fantasise about how different his life would have been if he wasn't born in the ghetto. He would have been in a better school. He would have had better clothes. He would be living in a bigger house and he would eat better food. His life would have been so much better.
"Why do bad things happen to good people?" He would ask himself. Do things really happened for a reason?"
"Dudo que," he sighed.
His secret place gave him time to think things through, time to figure out how to get out of that hell. He was good at being the best at everything he did and that was the start to his own rebellion. He was going to become the rebels smartest, strongest and finest soilder, not for them but for himself; his dreams, his future, his mother, his best friend and for his country. After all, they say, "What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger."
A/N: This is the second update.
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The Patriots
ActionIn a ghetto located in a suburb of Colombia, there rises a rebellion which leads to war and bloodshed. Teenagers are trained from parts of Colombia to fight for their country. For if the bloodthirsty are not stopped, they would lose everything they...
