Please Don't Be A Psychopath|| Joel Pimentel||

Chapter 3

-Rosalina Point of view-

Our family company was founded by my parents, Georgina De La Flor and Ernesto De La Flor. I was born in Mexico but raised in California with my aunts and uncles because she was never around.

As I grew older, I remember that someone was always watching over me. I could feel it but I never could see who. Every day, I would go to school and leave early to go to, boxing, martial arts, swimming, gymnastics or soccer.

It was the same cycle every day.

I would always go with this one kid after school to an abandoned building where we practiced. He always wore a red mask when around me. I didn't think much of it because he was my only friend at the time. He had a tougher time than me because he would always get into fights and sometimes I wouldn't see him for months.

When he came back, I was 9 and he was 11 he was really distant and wore a different colored mask now. We still hung out with each other and I started taking a liking to him but one day as we hid under the kitchen table talking about a cat named Paola who kept stealing our tamales.

I asked him to show me his face, I remembered him freezing for a second and then he nodded. As he went to unzip it, I watched in anticipation but I never got to see what was under the mask because he was grabbed from under the table by a tall masked man and taken. I cried and screamed as I tried running after him but he was gone.

That was the last time I ever saw him.

I never had a happy childhood, I mean instead of playing with dolls or watching tv I was breaking little kids noises in boxing class. I was trained by a woman who was harsher on me than the other kids and I kept wondering why we're going through this, if we were just kids.

Sports are supposed to be fun not menacing.

However, there was this one problem the woman looked just like my mother but the image I had of her was now blurred and I wouldn't want to have her as a mom.

As I grew into a young woman, it was the same thing all over again, just that the work got harder. My coach would train me until I was the best. I would cry every day until I couldn't feel any pain anymore. All I wanted was happiness and I would grab onto anything that made me happy.  Than Lola came, she was 17 and I was 16 and my coach took a liking to her, so we were trained together. She was my best friend, she never left my side and was always there for me.

That all changed that day after class, when it was cold and cloudy. It was her first week in with us but what happened was unforgivable.

I went to walk her home but when we made it inside her small pink house we found her parents died in the kitchen. They were massacred to the point she didn't even recognize them.

She panicked and told me to lock all the doors, she cried and cried as she tried to tell me that we had to dispose of the bodies before they came back. Who? I don't know but I helped her as tears fell down my cheeks, I cleaned the blood, helped her dig up their graves in her small backyard and pray.

She was dead inside as she fell down to her knees her hands bloodied and brown. Her eyes where whiter than usual, her soft tanned skin pale.

She kept shouting for her them and shivering.

At that moment all I wanted to do was comfort her but I could hear the banging on the door and several gunshots. I picked up Lola and carried her on my back.

I looked around trying to find a way out, we left through a door in the back yard because we couldn't go back inside. But there was this masked man waiting for us right there in the alley. My face became pale as I looked around, I could run to either side but how.