“The Illiterate Gangster”
Pedro Sanchez wasn’t just an ordinary baby when he was born in the populated city of Guadalajara in Mexico. He didn’t cry like the other babies. Some would say that when he was born, he was made to withstand the conflicts and downfalls in his life; like his parents abandoning him that day. Pedro was kept in the nursery of the hospital for adoption. Since no one adopted him, he was removed from the nursery and taken the El Sauzal Orphanage.
A lonely child who constantly stared at the cloudy sky was a good way to describe Pedro after his first few years at the orphanage. Even when he grew up, Pedro wasn’t able to make friends; he never conversed with anyone. Unlike the other six-year-olds, who were learning to kick the ball around, he would collect unique pebbles and place them under the cracked stairs. The caring workers at the orphanage would try to encourage Pedro to join the others, but Pedro would often scamper away to the stairs where he kept the pebbles. “Oh Dios! Ése so lonely!” The workers pitied him.
Time had passed; Pedro was nine years old and ultimately ready to go to school. At school, the teachers were salaried low wages. Some of them weren’t even qualified to teach, but since the education there was for the poor or orphan students, people felt that it didn’t matter. The orphanage covered the expenditure, student fees and school supplies, from donations. The school was a unsympathetic place, and sometimes even brutal. The students were often beaten for not having completed their work or for making errors in there work. Pedro was the most maltreated there. He couldn’t read or write. He tried so hard, but he never achieved even the low standards. He could understand everything the teachers said, but couldn’t reproduce it in his stapled pieces of paper, which he called notebook. The teachers were neither surprised nor bothered to hit him with the meter stick everyday. “You don’t get it, do you?” The teacher hit him harder every time. The other students usually laughed at him after the blistering punishment.
After school, the orphans played outside, in the poorly paved ground, while Pedro would try to write properly. His Spanish was illegible, “S” and his “R” were backwards and he wrote a “b” instead a “d” and vice-versa. Hitting himself was the way he penalized himself every time he got the letters mixed up. Pedro struggled for hours to write his name but never succeeded. His failure to read and write caused his failure to advance to the next grade. He had to repeat the same grade but didn’t progress at all. This became a bigger problem for Pedro, because he became more noticed as the boy who failed first grade. Others started to make fun of him. Bullying became more accustomed for him. The orphans, who were in his class last year, started making fun of him. “You know you a stupid idiot! You know you a retard!” The bullies ostentatiously yelled at Pedro
“You know your parents left you, you know because you’re so dumb!”
The bullying became worse every day. The orphans eventually started beating him. “You don’t deserve to be here.” Pedro became more and more depressed every day. He was beaten at school and now at the orphanage as well. He had no friends to help him or to tell the others to stop.
For the second time, Pedro had failed his grade. The teachers were tired of having him for two years straight. Their complaining left the principal no choice but to expel Pedro. “He doesn’t have the requisite intelligence to continue receiving education here.” The principal told the orphanage. The orphanage had to agree with the principal since they couldn’t afford to pay for another year of school for a continuously failing orphan.
Later that day, Pedro packed his pen, his “notebook” and two of his pebbles into a plastic bag. He climbed over the locked gate and ran away from the orphanage. It was that day that he had left the only two places he had ever been to. Outside his previous home, everything felt like a forest. He didn’t know where to go and was walking without thinking or looking back. Soon it was inevitable that he was completely lost. An exotic smell had caught his attention. He glanced around the middle-class neighbourhood and saw a restaurant. He started walking toward the restaurant and soon was inside the well-lit and beautifully scented restaurant. Everywhere he looked, there were adults enjoying themselves. A man leaving a table caught his eye. He went closer to the table and saw the delicious food. Not knowing that the food he had started eating was expensive and paid for, he started devouring everything he could fit in his mouth. He was just hungry. By the time the man had returned to the table, Pedro had almost finished the meal. The rage-struck man started yelling. Immediately, one of the waiters rushed to the table and grabbed Pedro by the hair and dragged him to the back room. “Stop! Stop! Ah!” Pedro yelled in pain.
“You little bastard! You filthy rat!” The waiter yelled and pulled his hair even harder. The waiter then threw Pedro to the floor. “You ain’t got no money. You wash em dishes! You pay for food!” The waiter yelled.
Pedro, in tears, went to the sink. He stared the enormous pile of stain and grease covered dishes. “What are you waiting for?” The waiter screamed. Pedro was not new to doing dishes. Some of the workers at the orphanage told Pedro that he could see his parents if he did the dishes. Pedro was very excited and didn’t even question the workers. He did this numerous times; still convinced his parents would come get him. His parents never came. As soon as Pedro thought he was done the dishes, more would be brought to be washed. After a few hours, Pedro was done washing all of the dishes. When he washed the soap off his hands, he saw that most of his skin was peeling off. The corrosive dish detergent had damaged his bare hands. By that time, when he looked around and noticed that he was the only one in the kitchen. He saw that the back door wasn’t properly closed. After examining it, he concluded that it was broken. It was well into the night, and he had shelter, so he made a pillow from some newspaper he found and slept.
The next morning, he was woken up by pain in his stomach and a loud noise. Someone was kicking him. “Wake up you dog!” He quickly got up. “Get out of this restaurant!” The waiter yelled. Pedro fearfully sprinted through the door. He was so angry at the waiter, that he had forgotten his belongings and his bag. Outside, he saw a big tree and decided to go and sit under it. “Why did they leave me?” He asked himself, thinking about his parents. The only wish he had was for them to come and get him.
It was almost night time when he remembered about his belongings. He had been sitting on the same spot for the whole day. He decided that later on he would sneak in and get his things back. Pedro waited until the restaurant closed and the last of the waiters left. He then quietly rushed to the back of the restaurant. He remembered about the broken door, so he entered through the back. His belongings were in the garbage can beside the sink. He collected his items and was about to leave when he saw a plate with a fair amount of food. It was a half eaten meal. He however hadn’t eaten anything from yesterday; he enjoyed his cold meal. He was almost bloated when he started walking around the kitchen. Pedro spotted box above a cupboard. The curious boy grabbed a stool, and climbed on top of it to reach the box; it was too far. He made a small jerk toward the box, and pushed it off the cupboard. He tried to catch it, but his movement caused an imbalance. Instantly, he fell to the cold and hard, cemented floor. He could taste saltiness of blood in his mouth. In a couple of seconds, his lips and his tooth frenzied with pain. His lips felt like someone was trying to rip it off, and his broken tooth caused pain in his whole jaw. He capered around like a shot gazelle, trying to ease the pain. He went to the sink and tried to wash the blood. The stream of blood kept flowing. He started panicking. He found some napkins, so he ripped a small piece and put it between his lip and his teeth.
After a while, the bleeding stopped. Pedro was in much agony and he started feeling dizzy. He knew that if he rested, then he would surely get caught. He arduously moved toward the box. He managed to open it against small resistance. The box, to his surprise, was filled with money. After so much hurting and down-moments, he was finally relieved. He emptied the box into his bag and left the restaurant.
The night was the worst night of his life. He wasn’t able to sleep at all. Every second, he felt like dying. After hours of agony, he somehow managed to doze off. He woke up next morning, in the stairs of a clinic, which he used as a bed. He went inside the clinic to find something to ease the pain. The doctor stitched his lips up for a small charge and gave him some painkillers. It was hours later that his pain had finally stopped. He ended up buying a couple of pain killers. In a few days, his lips felt better and better. He had made a hiding spot, a fissure in a tree, where he kept his money. He only bought food once a day and never spent it on anything. However, a few times, he had given a little of his money to the homeless people he met on the streets. He knew how they felt since he was homeless too. One day, he went to a corner store and bought a cheap sugar candy. He was celebrating his 12th birthday.
Later on, he had gone to get some money from his hiding spot when he saw a couple of boys near the tree. He saw his bag with one of the boys. He rushed to claim his belongings. But, instantly, he was pushed to the ground. “That’s mine! Give it back!” Pedro yelled. The boys laughed, ignoring him. “Eh papy! You want it back? You fight me for it.” said one of the boys. As soon as Pedro stood up, he was punched down. One of the other boys kicked him as they left him on the ground. Pedro got up and ran to the tree to see if they left anything behind. Nothing. Like nothing he had ever experienced, his fury overpowered him. He started kicking the tree to release his newly embedded anger. Then Pedro realized what living in the streets was like. Anything could happen to him, so he had to be ready.
Four years later, Pedro was 16 years old. When living in the streets, Pedro met other boys like him. Some were orphans, and some ran away from home, but they all lived in the streets. They were a couple of years older than Pedro, so to not feel left out, Pedro increased his age by 3. They were all close friends, sharing their feelings, thoughts and means of survival in the streets. The teens called themselves a gang. They had found themselves a new and efficient way of earning money. They would steal cars, and bring them to a motor garage to sell them. The owner of the garage knew that the cars were stolen, but would accept it. This became a huge profit for Pedro and his friends. They soon had enough money to rent an apartment, and so they did.
Stealing cars soon turned into dealing drugs for the gang. The garage owner knew about a businessman who traded drugs for money, so he got the gang a job dealing drugs. The drug lord was a rich Cuban living in America, and was known as Mr. Montana. He gave them a good salary and a commission for complete deals. This was so much more profitable than stealing cars. They had enough money in a few weeks to buy a house. As they income grew, the gang soon bought houses for each member, and the money still kept on coming. They all lived in one house, but kept the others for storage or to hide in case of trouble. They all had experiences doing a quick and swift car theft many times undetected; therefore avoiding the police wasn’t hard. They had done many complete deals so the drug lord was proud. But it was Pedro that had organized the plans and was part of almost all deals, so the drug lord was especially proud of him. New members were added to the gang quite often, but the original few, including Pedro, were the most respected. Their gang grew larger and larger. They were known across the city, and many feared them. The gang’s intention was not to hurt anyone, but just do the dope business.
One day, Pedro went to a restaurant for lunch. He sat down on a table and waited for service. A waiter came to let him order food. It was the same waiter that had beaten him some years ago. It was the same waiter that had forced him to do so many dishes. The waiter, however, didn’t recognize him.
“What would you like for lunch, seignior?” The waiter asked politely. Pedro stood up in rage and threw his fist as hard as he could toward the waiter’s face. The waiter fell to the floor, and Pedro left the restaurant. His heart felt so much lighter.
Pedro was still confused why he couldn’t read or write. He managed to visit a doctor for a check up. In the eye check, he wasn’t able to even read the first letter. The doctor was surprised and Pedro was frustrated. He told the doctor, who was trying to prescribe him something, to continue. After the check-up, the doctor concluded that Pedro suffered from Dyslexia. He was angry that he had suffered all his life because of that, but he was happy that he wasn’t actually stupid.
The gang was enjoying themselves in a club one night. Everyone was dancing so wildly, but Pedro was sitting down at a table, drinking cola. He would’ve loved to dance, but he didn’t know how. He looked around the club to see what others were doing, when he saw a man with a gun aimed at the dancers. He tried to yell, but his voice dissolved in a couple of gunshots and terrifying screams. One of his gang members was killed. The killer managed to get away with the fleeing crowd of dancers.
Pedro was confused and irritated. He didn’t know why that person killed one of his friends. To his knowledge, they had never done anything to hurt them. Pedro thought that other gangs may have been jealous of them. They were so rich and well-known yet they started from. The gang related violence grew. If the gangs saw each other in the street, they would start a gun battle to try to kill the enemy. Many fights started, and many died. Pedro had never shot anyone. He told others that e didn’t want to hurt them, but the truth was he couldn’t aim properly.
The gang planned for revenge toward the other gang. Four of the gang members grabbed some Nighthawks and Uzis to perform a drive-by on members of the other gang. Pedro tried to stop them saying that if they did this it would lead to a cycle of killings. They ignored Pedro and by next morning had killed the target. They celebrated that morning at a casino.
Pedro went to the hospital where he was born. He wanted to find out about his parents. After getting denied a couple of times, Pedro had to use force to get through to the information he needed. The nurse took a blood sample and in a couple of minutes returned with a file. She showed him a picture of a lady. It was his mother. Pedro asked the nurse to read out her name: Ada Sanchez. She was beautiful and tall. She had black hair and eyes like Pedro’s. That was the happiest day of his life. He was so excited that he had forgotten about the killings that had taken place. He then asked about his father. She told him that he had died in that same hospital a long time ago. His mood changed. He called his friends and told him about his discovery. They were happy for him. He had planned so much for his mother. He would try to make up for the 16 years he lad lost. The 16 years he was alone, misjudged and loathed.
He returned home late that evening, only to find out about more deaths in his gang. It was like he said; the cycle continued. The next morning, Pedro was walking alone, listening to music in his portable cassette player. It was in a few minutes he felt a staggering pain in his left shoulder. Blood started pouring down his shirt. Someone had shot him. He looked around and ducked for cover when another shot was fired at him. He was in pain when he started running toward the shopping mall. He had lost the shooter. Even though he had not seen him, he knew he was one of the opposing gang members.
He went to his room and rested for a while. He, in pain, used a knife to remove the bullet and then bandaged the wound. When watching television, he was startled by something. To add to the adversity, the news reported of a police incursion taking place on a gang. It was them. He rushed downstairs to warn the others. But they were being held down at gun-point by some policemen. Before they could get a sight of him, he ran back into his room and climbed out the window. He then ran as fast as he could. As he was running, he heard the sirens and eventually saw the police behind. He knew that he couldn’t outrun the speeding police, so ran toward a car and threw the driver out. He quickly got in the car and sped toward his escape. He was driving well above the speed limit. Pedro passed many stop signs and traffic lights. He avoided the screaming people in front of him. He desperately took a look back to get a glimpse of the police. In that split-second, he heard a huge thud, causing him to spin the car and crash into a street light. Pieces of glass were stuck in his face when he managed to get out of the car. There was a body on the ground, a dead body. He had run over someone. He had never willingly hurt nor killed anyone without a purpose. He never wanted to hurt anyone. But now, someone was dead because of him. He moved toward the body as he removed the pieces of glass from his face. His face bled so bad, he had to wipe his eyes to see. He reached just close enough so he could see the person. It was a lady. She was tall and had black hair. Pedro recognized her face. She was his mother.
The police had caught up with him. The next few seconds were the most painful seconds of his life. The bullets in his back didn’t hurt as much as what he had just done. The police however didn’t stop shooting. They were releasing their anger for the hated gang and its member. Every moment became darker and darker for Pedro. Everything became more blurry and painful. He no longer heard the loud gunshots. He could no longer see anything. His life flashed back before him. Then everything went blank.
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