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| - I clawed at my bedsheets as the rainstorm amplified outside. My eyes shot open once it became too much. Staring at the peeled purple paint on the walls, I took a few deep breaths and slumped my head back on my sweat-stained pillow. What a terrible nightmare, I thought with one last glance around my room before being lulled back into a deep sleep by the cracking of lightning and the surging of rain outside. Fortunately, that's when I woke up. The clock flashed in red 2:34 a.m. Ugh, soon I'd have to get up, get dressed, and head back to school to await another day of drama and complete bore; it didn't really help that my 12th grade classmates were the idiots I dealt with in season 3; at least it would be my last week of school before summer. When I headed off into the bathroom to wash my face, I rubbed lotion against the scars from World Tour on my chest and arms. Damn Chris and his show... With a good look in the mirror, I sighed. I had really let myself go lately. I still had some muscle, but since my parents got divorced I was a lot bonier that before. My ribs stuck out of my once-buff chest, my jawbone was more visable, and my abs decreased from a 12-pack to half of what it was. I really need to head to the gym later on, I thought. One last look in the mirror and I tried to sneak back into bed, until I overheard my mother's loud voice. " I promise you Derek, we're just not meant to be." she yelled into the telephone receiver with her lips stained from the black lipstick she wore. Derek? My father's name wasn't Derek; it was Robert, Robert Chester Burromento. I shook away thoughts of the possible until she kept talking. " Yes, yes, I know I divorced with my husband, but we shouldn't date." " Look, Lola, I understand that he wanted to protect you and everything, but trust me, that loser wasn't worth your time." Protect us? Protect us from what, exactly? I knew my dad was a diplomat and everything, but still.... What was that tramp talking about? Mom slapped her face--possibly scraping some of her Hispanic skin off her forehead--and sighed before speaking in her squeaky voice. I was as silent as a grave. " Derek, I know that you may be a lot more different than my ex-husband, but he was the one who suggested the divorce for a reason. If he didn't, that gang could've killed me and my kids. He sacraficed himself for me and I could never replace him." " Well, that's wussy. If only he'd given the ransom and not throw himself into the apartment then maybe----" " Enough, already!" my mother yelled before hanging up. It couldn't be possible, could it? My dad, divorcing with my mother, and then what? What were they talking about? Were they actually saying that my father was...... Dead? After cursing at herself, she snatched a book from the table and sighed with her eyes turned to sad slits. Our family scrapbook I made in 2nd grade. It mostly consisted of embarrasing baby pictures of my brothers, and luckily, not a lot of me. Soon, she started crying when she got to the last page, the page where I added a picture from her wedding day for their anniversary. " I wish you were still here, honey..." she bemoaned with a single teardrop landing on the page. At that point, I couldn't take it anymore. I rushed into the kitchen as fast as I could. She didn't even have to ask why; she knew that I eavesdropped. I took a deep breath and only muttered, " What was going on?" She sat me down, stirred the ice in her tea, and closed the book. She admitted that a vicious gang once threatened that if my father didn't pay them one million dollars when I turn 18, they would slaughter the entire family. It then explained why they made me sign up for World Tour; she lied saying that it would help refresh me from my daily life. Well, sadly for her, Total Drama was what I called the dumbest show on Earth. Continuing, she said that my father refused to give up when I lost, so he divorced with her knowing that he was not going to survive the fight. She gazed down at the floor, hugged me tight, and whimpered, " I know I should've told you, but then you would've been in danger. I'm really sorry, Alejandro." I hugged her tightly, then let go and went back to bed. At least it could clear away one nightmare. But still, it was very sad. Mom sometimes said that bad things can happen to good people, but for me, that was different. I know I'm not a good person. " Alejandro!" my brother Carlos yelled. I was snapped back to reality when a soccer ball smacked me in the face. He came to my side with a little smirk on his face. He had to give me a black eye. " Dude, what's been with you lately? Ever since last night, you've been acting kinda weird." " Sorry, hermano. I was just thinking of something." " Well, I hope your thinking of getting back our ball 'cause it just rolled down into that alley." I laughed in an ambivalent way before heading down the street. Even though my dad was gone, at least there was still an upside. I still had my brothers and my mom, so I thought it wouldn't get worse, right? Wrong. Completely wrong. I wouldn't even think there was an upside. When I entered the alley and got our soccer ball back, I heard the blustering sound of fighting in lobby of a nearby building. I tried to ignore it, but then it finally attracted my attention when a gunshot was fired. Peeking through the window, a man in a buisness suit ran his fingers through his shiny black comb over (with a few grey roots), laughed, and threw a Diamondback in the air. What terrified me most was how much he resembled the character in my nightmare. I tried to run away, but when his eyes landed on me, I knew he wouldn't let me leave without a fight. He beckoned with his finger to make me come in. With a few shaky breaths, I came in. My heart was still once I saw a dead body on the floor. As I sat down at the table, he laughed at the panicked expression on my face. He set his cigarette in an ashtray and said, " Ahh, isn't it an honor to have Robert's son here. My name's Derek O'Sharen." Oh crap. It was the person that was hitting up on Mom. With a few taps on the table, I said, " Lo siento. No puedo entender a inglés." He laughed at my pathetic attempt to fool him. " How clever. You actually thought that I didn't understand Spanish?" I groaned. Just what I need. Humiliation. " Look, I'm not going to hurt you yet, but I do request that you follow my instructions to the letter, 'kay?" I nodded. " Good. Now, I'm not the person that killed one of these people, but I do hold this gun as the evidence of who did do this. Not much is known about her, but here's the thing: she has murdered a few of our social workers and we need her to be captured and taken in for questioning. Since your the most quick-witted in the Burromento family, I'm counting on you to find her." " Why should I listen to anything you say?" I glared at him straight in the eye. What shocked me was that he was barely intimidated by my lime green gaze. " Well, remember that gang that killed your father? Well, I can track that gang down and have them arrested, if you track the perpetrator. If not, then, well, since I never take no for an answer, you might get the point. Capiche?" An innuendo for a death threat. Oh rapture. With my chest tightening from the agita and the shine of the auroral night on the table, I stuttered, " C-ca-capiche." He handed my an arylide yellow file folder, let out a small laugh, and said to my before I left, " Also, it's best that we don't tell anyone about this and best that you don't show this file to anyone either. Whoever asks, just say it's schoolwork and continue on with your life." I nodded again before walking out the now-shattered glass door. I leaned against the brick wall, collecting some debris on my jacket. This was unbelievable. The last thing in life I needed was to be in some kidnapping mission under threat of murder. Still, it would be nice to get my hands on the drug-addicted losers that killed my father. What the hell did they want from us anyway? My mind was snapped back once I heard Carlos's distant yell. " Hey, Al? C'mon, dude, we need to go home!" I rolled my eyes. I hate it when I'm called "Al". Before grabbing the soccer ball, I took a peek inside the folder and almost fainted at the sight of the picture.
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