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“What happened here son?” said the Sheriff, “What happened here?” “It is a long story Sir,” I said. “Let me tell you how it all happened….it started a long time ago………this is my life Sir.”

I wake up each morning lying next to the McDonald’s dumpster with a few half-filled beer bottles and the stench of rotting food. Every single day, I wake up afraid.  I am confused and anxious because I have no idea who I am or how I really got here.  The one thing I do know is I will never see my family again.  All I remember is that my parents were murdered by a couple of gangsters. I was the only one left. Our place was on Gringo Street in the seediest part of town. We had a two room house in a little trashed up neighborhood in Miami. It was all my parents could afford and it was the only house I’ve ever had. I was too young to remember all of it. I was only 6 years old but I remember my mom always locked the door before she tucked me in each night and she always prayed for our safety. She always seemed so nervous and afraid and now I know why. Well anyway…..one night when I was about 6 years old, we were all woke by the sound of rapid gunshots ringing into the night. I remember hearing her scream and I quickly hid under the covers. When everything got quiet all I could think to do was run. I ran and ran and ran until I couldn’t run anymore. That is the last thing I remember about the little house on Gringo Street and that is the last memory I have of my parents. Now, it is six years later, I still live and hide on the streets in the trashiest part of town. I wake up to mind bending headaches and the smell of rotten food. I am used to my daily routine and have accepted that this is my life. Instead of my mom tucking me in at night, I take a few sips of wine I jack from the corner liquor store until I pass out. All I want to do is forget my misery. I had prayed that someday, someone good would take me in. I’ve never trusted anyone though after all that I’ve been through.  The only friends I have now are the local dealers and street people – they are all I really have. I forage for what little food I have in the alley ways and dumpsters, or take what shopkeepers throw away at the end of the day. I’ve been forced to steal whatever else I need. I’ve never been caught because no one expects a 12 year old to be alone on the streets stealing to survive.  I’m sorry Officer, but I had to survive.   This is all I own right here…..my bike and my clothes.  My bike is pretty messed up. It has a loose chain, squeaky brakes, and the paint is chipping away, but I keep it, because it is the only thing I have that reminds me of my dad – that and a torn up wrinkly picture I grabbed from the wall before I ran away that night. I will keep all the pieces of my bike no matter how badly it falls apart. It is my only connection to the life I used to have.  I always wished someone would take me in but the only person that wanted to was a very scary man that always seemed to be following me around.  He didn’t seem like a good person to me.  I spent my days dodging him as best as I could.  He could have  kidnapped me and no one would have even known. I know now why he wanted to take me in, but I’ll get to that later. He just really creeped me out.  I’d never even gotten a good look at his face because when he talked to me, he always looked away and  he wore a hat that nearly covered his face. The one thing I do know is he was the leader of a gang and was a very dangerous man. Word gets around on the streets you know. Anyway, I went to the library a few weeks ago and looked up old newspaper articles and stumbled on a story about a murder that happened six years ago. It was a young couple and their names were Beverly and Bobby Hellington. I wondered if they might be my parents. I pulled out the faded and torn picture I’d been carrying for the last six years and it looked like them. The paper went on to tell of a young kid that was left behind after the murders and was never found again. His name was Billy…..I wondered if that could be me.  The article also had a picture of a man that I thought I recognized and it scared me so bad that I ran out of the library as fast as I could.  I don’t know where I was going but I ran until I couldn’t  breathe anymore. In the hazy distance, I saw someone. I was sure that it must be him, the man who seemed to be stalking me. Oh my God, it was him!! Before I could run away from the man, he shot me at close range in the shoulder. I fell to the ground. When I finally regained consciousness, all I could hear was the drone of machines and a constant beep beep beep. The nurse came up to me and said “God must really love you son” I tried to respond and smile but I couldn’t. All I did was close my eyes and took low quiet breaths. I suddenly realized that that is why he wanted me to live with him” But why did he hate my family so much?”

The doctor told me that I’d have to move into a foster home. The social workers gave me new clothes, let me shower and let me get my hair cut. I looked so much better. After having a good meal and gathering up my things, I was taken to meet my new foster family. The woman seemed nice enough but I wasn’t sure about the man. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but he really really made me nervous. There was something about him that scared me to death. I forgot about it quickly though when I saw how nice the place was. There were ducks, geese, deer and all sorts of other animals and the house was very nice. I couldn’t figure out what he did for a living but whatever he did, he did it well, because they seemed to have a lot of money. My new foster father told me that this was a place that I would be safe and happy and that no one would ever hurt me again. The next day he took me hunting. He even gave me my own rifle. We were laying on our backs in the sunshine shooting at the geese in the air when it suddenly hit me. I knew what it was now. It was the same voice I heard the day my parents were killed and the same voice I heard when I got shot in the shoulder. It was him. The look on my face must have given me away because he got very angry and agitated and reached for his gun and pointed it straight at me. He knew I knew who he was. I quickly grabbed my loaded rifle and shot him in the kneecap so he couldn’t chase me. I shot the man who killed my parents and ran away as fast as I could. I ran and ran and ran and that’s when I saw you Officer Rodale. “Will you please help me sir?”