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EVER SINCE THE BATMAN HAD GIVEN ME THE CARD, I HAD THE TEMPTATION OF CALLING. I put the card in my bra, so that way it wouldn't fall out of my pockets or I wouldn't forget it was there. It had only been a day since the incident but something didn't feel right. It felt as if there was an impending doom on all of us.
The world was still chaotic, the streets were no longer safe. Everywhere you'd go, someone would be threatening you, either to kill you, steal from you and anything else. I walked down the street with my hoodie over my head and my hands in my pocket. The streets were crowded with people and children.
There was an old man on the sidewalk with a dog on his lap, he had a small cup on the ground. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a dollar bill. I bent down and put the dollar in the cup, the man smiled at me and I smiled back before getting up.
When I reached my apartment the sky had fallen dark. The stars filled the air and the street lamps were turned on. I sat on my bed and grabbed the picture frame that was on the nightstand next to my bed. It was a picture of my parents and me when I was around ten years old.
My mom stood proudly with a hand on her hip, she wore a green dress and little black heels. Her jet-black hair was curled past her shoulder and she had one hand on my shoulder. My father stood with a hand on my other shoulder and the other was by his side. My two parents had the biggest smiles on their faces. I stood with my hands out in front of me with a misshapen smile, my teeth were crooked but my parents thought I looked adorable.
The day that we managed to come to the United States was fearful yet exciting. My parents talked about going to visit Disney World and how I would have a great education. They were fearful, that they would get caught in the process and get deported back. Ever since we did, we fought for citizenship. My mother and I managed to get it but my father was unlucky. He was deported back to Mexico and when he did manage to get his citizenship back and come to America, it didn't last long.
When I was around seventeen, my dad had managed to come back. We were happy for a few months before the incident. Every summer, my mother and I would go back and see my father, who had been staying with my abuela. When my parents were killed, it was the worst day of my life.
We were leaving a restaurant after finding out I had been accepted to college. My parents and I were walking on the sidewalk when two men in black hoodies stopped us at gunpoint. He kept pressuring my parents into giving them their money. My parents were shaking and didn't know what to do. One of them had me in a chokehold with the gun against my head.
When the dad had handed over his wallet, the only thing the man pulled out was his ID from Mexico--which he still had. When the man only found a few dollar bills left in his pocket, he dropped the wallet and pulled the trigger aimed at my father. My mother and I both screamed before aiming at her pulling the trigger.
