Live To Tell

Tupac

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 Summer of 1992

      I remember... it was a hot summer day, the usual heat and humidity of Los Angeles slowly settling over the South Central where I lived. It was still morning, with the sun and its warm, big rays all over the blue sky. My neighborhood was a peaceful one, with respectful people, with kids playing all day on the streets. Rarely there was any kind of violence and rarely police was bothering my African Americans neighbors.

    But I wasn't born in South Central. I was born in Oak Ridge, Tennessee where l lived until the age of 10, then l moved to Florida until l was 14 and then, again, l moved to South Central. My dad owned a company named Beta Image, it was the biggest Advertising Company in the South, but somehow, I've never found out why, its dynasty ended and we had to move constantly. l never went back to visit my birthplace, or even Florida. I don't know what my parents' life was before Los Angeles. All I know is that I grew up in these different neighborhoods and l never had a feeling of belonging, l never felt like a certain area or a certain part of the country was where l was from. All l could feel was that l've always been a South girl even though l got to live almost everywhere, from West to East. Regardless, I had a decent childhood, like most of my classmates. I never had many friends, because l moved too much, except one girl, Barbara, whom I met when I started high school. We are still best friends. 

I was the type of kid that would always listen to their parents, I'd never cross the line and I'd never talk back. I was shy, obedient but deep, deep inside I was waiting for the perfect moment to let it out my inner self. It was like two different people were constantly battling inside me. I liked the quiet side, but I also wanted to be a little bit braver than I never were. Maybe if I were, things would have been so much different now.

    As I said, I never knew what my parents' life was before we moved in L.A. My mom used to tell me dad was a salesperson, he was always gone, coming back home late in the night. My mom was a housewife. She never worked because my dad thought her only mission was to give me a good education. They were also very religious and l grew up loving God, but I knew my mom wasn't happy. I always felt that there was so much more about her that I never had the chance to find out. My dad was a kind man, but strict  when it came to family or business. l wasn't allowed to have a boyfriend until the age of 18, so l never had any. I don't know why I never had the chance to get to know my father better or get closer to my mother, l guess l was too busy figuring myself out from moving so much. As I grew older I understood that my family was surrounded by so many secrets that ended up being deadly for them.

... I was only sixteen years old and it was the last days of school when that something happened, which changed my life completely. I went to school that day, as normal as I went in all other days. I believe it was a Tuesday and I know for sure the upcoming day I had an important exam to take, so I decided to stay at Barbara's house for studying and go home later than I usually would. Barbara lived in a better neighborhood, her parents were doctors and she always had a privileged life. But that never bothered me. Our friendship was based on so many other things and common interests, and we were too young to even understand what money and goods really are. We were both naturally blondes, with light eyes, mine were sky blue, hers were grey-green. Most of people thought we were sister and at heart, we actually were. We still are.

    As outside was getting darker I decided it's time to go home. For the first time I decided not to take the bus, which I still think it's one of the signs that saved my life. I walked down the street and l noticed a group of noisy guys. I crossed the street just to make sure they won't bother me. I was never racist or judgmental; I didn't even know what racism is, or why most of Americans had a problem with minorities, but I did have a problem with men in general and l never liked to be addressed or cat called or anything that would disturb me. I walked up on the other street, making my way to my house as I still heard their laughter and loud music. The lights on my house were turned off which was odd to me. I walked up to the door and noticed it was slightly opened. I frowned, but I still made my way inside, making up explanations to why the door would possibly be crack opened at around 10 pm. My heart was racing as I dropped my bag on the small hall's ground and l looked around. lt was too quiet and l had a feeling something was not right. I heard stuffy voices coming from the kitchen, but I couldn't see anything. I was about to turn the lights on when someone else turned on the ones in the kitchen. What I saw will be forever printed in my mind... 

There were blood everywhere on the kitchen floor all the way to my feet and l saw my parents lying down on the ground, most definitely  slaughtered. I hid behind a hall stand as I saw four people surrounding my parents' corpses. They were white, possibly Italians by their accents. Years later l figured they were mobsters. I was shaking, terrified and I was crying silently. The image of my parents dying in front of me has haunted me for years, but gladly l was fortunate enough to not be killed, too. I didn't know what happened, all I knew it was that my parents were murdered and I was the only witness. I was praying to live. But my silence wasn't for too long because I choked on my tears and they heard me. Without thinking twice I ran out the door, as fast as I could.

 I heard voices behind me and I think two of them even followed me, because l heard voices like shouting 'Get her'. I ran and ran and ran down the street until I heard that group of guys. They didn't leave yet. l had one shot in that terrifying moment and it was them, subconsciously l knew they would be my salvation. If not, l was going to get murdered in cold blood on the street and that's how my short life would have ended. So, I ran up to them, crying still and bumped into one of them. It was dark and so were they, so I couldn't see exactly who it was. I didn't even care; all I wanted was to be saved. I clenched my fists into a guy's  jacked and hid behind him as I kept repeating "They wanna kill me". The next thing I know is that I'm being thrown in a car and held down, into someone's chest. As the car was driving fast I heard gunshots and looked up at the man who was protectively holding me. The streets lights were stroking his face, fast, one by one and I could finally see him. 

It was Tupac Shakur.