Leon , my home , my birthplace. My family have lived here for generations , in a small tin hut by parque chapalita. We would of stayed there for much longer , if it weren't for the armed men .
I still remember the warm breeze on my cheeks as I walked out of the tin hut. The only sound to be heard was the gentle wind brushing through the gaps in the palm trees.
Life wasn't good there , but we could get along fine. We survived on less than a pound a day but we were still alive. I had gotten used to people around me being there one day but gone the next. I knew death was a natural part of life and was even more common for people like me.
I had never been to school or learned to read or write. I knew i'd never get a reasonable job , and that I would have to sell rubbish or scraps from the streets to survive.
I had always dreamed of going to America , with it's giant cities and the wealth. I was told about the thousands of well paid jobs there , and the doctors and health care. My father had died of an illness only a few months ago , if we'd gone to America sooner I could've saved him. Now I am the man of the household , I do all the work.
That morning I was heading out to meet my amigo , Pedro, before going out to the streets and hunting for scraps. The streets were eerily quiet as I walked but I didn't think much of it at the time. It wasn't until I heard screaming before a gunshot that I knew something was up.
I ran along the street and skidded to a halt were I was to meet Pedro. My heart quickened when I didn't find him and I searched around with my eyes. It felt like it was in slow motion as they landed on a body collapsed on the floor. I fearfully walked up to it preparing myself for the worst.
There he was , lying on the ground , all the life drained from his features as a red puddle surrounded him. I would of stayed there and mourned , but I couldn't because the puddle around him was still spreading , meaning only one thing -it was recent.
My suspicions were confirmed when another gunshot and scream was heard from just around the corner. I froze and gulped , the feeling of dread rising from my stomach.
Run!! I persuaded myself and I forced myself not to look back as I turned and ran back in the direction of my home.
These weren't terrorists , nor gang members. they were just desperate. I guess they were fed up of living in the streets and decided to take what they need by force. It's not like the police would do anything about it , meaning i'll never get justice for Pedro's death.
"Madre! Hermano! Run!" I shouted as I ran up to the hut and a very confused face appeared out of it. "Gun men , no time! They are coming this way , come with me! Prisa ! Prisa!" I hurried my mother and her face paled.
She shouted inside the hut , no doubt to my little brother , and I watched the streets wearily.
You hate it here! I told myself. There's no justice here! No jobs! No food! No clean water! That's when the idea of were to go came to me.
My face lit up and ran inside to get my spare clothes and food for a couple of days , it was the food we'd saved for emergencies.
We were going to go to America! Were we can all get a job! Where there's so much food , not even the cats go hungry!
I smiled to myself as my mother , from the other side of the hut, walked over to me. "Carlos? What are you doing boy?!" she asked angrily as she watched me take our emergency supply. "We are going mother! We are going to America! Where we can live happily and without fear!" I said before picking up Valentin , my baby brother , and running out the hut with our few supplies.
