This is from Maria's Perspective
As I approached, the first buildings of the apartment complex drew my attention. I noticed something was wrong, and staring closer, I saw the damage. Some windows were shattered, their jagged edges glinting in the dim light. The sight sent a chill down my spine, but I forced myself to keep moving.
My neighbor Tome was standing with the rest of the guards at the entrance, makeshift weapons clutched in their hands. He looked weary, his eyes shadowed with worry. I locked eyes with him, my heart pounding in my chest. "Hey, Tome," I called out, my voice echoing in the silence. "Is everything okay?" Everyone else was relaxed and not paying too much attention to me.
He sighed a deep, heavy sound that echoed my own fears. He shrugged, his movements exaggerated, as if he was trying to make light of the situation. "No idea, Maria," he said, his voice rough like he didn't sleep all night. "I think so. Maybe. Sorta."
I hesitated, my gaze drifting to the broken windows. "And what happened there?" I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.
Tome followed my gaze, his expression darkening. "That was our not-so-friendly neighbors," he said, his voice filled with a bitterness that made me flinch.
I took a few tentative steps forward, my heart pounding in my chest. "Is my family okay?" I asked, my voice crackling.
The people around Tome fell silent, their gazes shifting away from me. It was as if I had become Medusa, my gaze turning them to stone. I froze, stumbling forward, clutching the revolver in my bag with a death grip. My heart was pounding in my chest as Tome slowly turned to look at me. There was a sadness in his eyes that made tears bubble to the corners of my own eyes.
Rooted to the spot, I felt a cold wave of fear wash over me. My mind was a whirlwind of worst-case scenarios, each more terrifying than the last. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, a wild drumbeat that echoed in my ears.
Tome flashed me a nervous smile, his eyes filled with an attempt at reassurance. "The tarado matones only broke a few windows in the first couple of buildings," he said. "Come on, I'll walk you to your door."
My voice was stuck in my throat, a lump of fear I couldn't swallow. My legs felt like they were made of lead and mercury, but I forced myself to move, stumbling but moving one step, then another, until I walked towards Tome. He waited for me to reach him, then fell into step beside me.
"I was still up around 2 in the morning when the power went out," he began, his voice low and scratchy. We walked deeper into the apartment complex, the broken windows a magnet for my attention. My head craned to the side until I couldn't see the broken window anymore. "I walked out, and everything was okay. A few people came out, too."
His words hung in the air, a heavy silence that made my stomach churn. I wanted to ask...to know what had happened, but the words wouldn't come. I could only listen as Tome continued his story.
"What was strange was that most of the flashlights didn't work either, but we all had a few candles. So we just kinda milled around. Then, maybe 2 hours later, we heard screaming and breaking glass from the gate and first buildings. I grabbed a bat and ran there. A few of the cuzz came running too. The pendejos fled quickly."
"Tome! Language." My voice finally found its way out, indignation giving me the strength to speak.
He glanced at me, an apologetic smile on his face. "I'm sorry, Maria, but it's accurate about the fools. But I'm sorry. Anyways, we have been keeping watch since then. No one was hurt from the attack." His words were a small comfort, but the fear still lingered, a cold knot in my stomach.
The words' no one was hurt in the attack' echoed in my mind, a mantra that drenched me in fear and dread as I stumbled towards the building where my family resided. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat echoing in my ears, pounded in my head, and blurred my vision. For some reason, my legs were failing me right at the finish line.
Tome paused, his gaze filled with concern as he watched me. I could see the confusion in his eyes, but I didn't have the words to explain the fear that gripped me. I forced my legs to move, my steps quickening as I neared my front door.
"Well, here's your door, Maria," Tome said, his voice filled with a strange mix of relief, dread, and worry. "If you need anything, let us know. We're here to help."
I managed a nod, forcing a smile onto my face. "Thank you, Tome," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I turned to my door, my heart pounding in my chest. Each step felt like an eternity, time stretching out as I neared the door.
My hand shook as I reached for the doorknob, the cold metal burning my skin. I turned the knob, but the door remained stubbornly closed. It was locked.
A wave of panic washed over me, but I pushed it down, forcing myself to remain calm. I didn't want to wake anyone up. I didn't want to cause any more stress than necessary. I fumbled in my bag for my keys, my fingers clumsy with fear.
The keys slipped from my grasp, clattering to the floor. I bent down to pick them up, my heart threatening to jump out of my chest. As I straightened, I heard the sound of the lock turning. My breath hitched in my throat, my hand frozen in the air.
The door creaked open, revealing my baby sister, Rosalina. She was the sunshine of our family, her laughter and joy infectious, her spirit uncontainable. But now, her usual radiance was dimmed. Her eyes, usually so full of life, were bloodshot and swollen, her cheeks stained with the tracks of her tears. Her nose was red, with streaks of dried snot.
We stood there, staring at each other. The sight of my sweet, innocent sister in such a state of despair again was like a punch to the gut. I felt my heart clench, tears welling up in my eyes. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. The air was heavy with it, a palpable sense of dread that made my skin crawl.
Before I could break down or ask a question, suddenly, two small figures darted past Rosalina. My babies. They threw themselves at me, their small arms wrapping around my waist in a tight hug. The force of their embrace nearly knocked me off my feet, but I managed to stay upright, wrapping my arms around them in return.
Tears spilled from my eyes, streaming down my face in a torrent of fear and relief. I clung to my children, their small bodies warm and solid against mine. Their voices were a jumbled mix of words and sobs, their words indistinguishable through my ringing ears.
As I held my children close, Rosalina stepped forward, her face a mask of sorrow. Tears streamed down her face, carving paths through the stains and grime. She wrapped her arms around us, pulling us into a tight, desperate hug. Her body shook with sobs, her tears soaking the shoulder of my shirt.
Through the chorus of our combined sobs, I began to pick up on fragments of words. 'Scared,' 'dead,' 'safe' - each word was like a punch to the gut. I reached up, tapping Rosalina on the arm. She looked at me, her eyes red and swollen from crying.
"What happened?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. I needed to know and understand why my family was in such a state of despair.
Rosalina just sobbed uncontrollably, her body shaking with the force of her grief. She couldn't form the words or bring herself to say it out loud. But she didn't need to.
My eldest pulled back slightly, her small arms still clutching around me. She looked up at me, her eyes filled with pain no child should ever have to endure this young. "Abuela has died," she said, her voice choked with sobs.
The words hit me like a physical blow, freezing my soul. I felt the color drain from my face, my knees buckling under the weight of the news. But before I could fall, the kids and Rosalina were there, holding me up. They guided me into the house, steering me towards the couch. The world around me blurred as I collapsed onto the couch, my mind struggling to process the devastating news.
The numbness of sorrow was slowly beginning to thaw, and I became aware of the warm bodies of my children and sister huddled against me on the couch. My youngest, a fragile little bird, was nestled in my lap, her small body shaking with sobs that echoed in the hollow space of my chest.
I was terrified to ask, to know the truth that had turned our world upside down. But I had to. For me. I turned my gaze to Rosalina, her face a mirror of the pain etched in my heart. "What happened?" I managed to croak out, my voice a brittle sound in the heavy silence of the room.
Rosalina's eyes, usually so full of life and laughter, were dull and red-rimmed. She opened her mouth to speak, and a fresh wave of tears spilled down her cheeks. "I'm not sure," she began, her voice a mere whisper. "But I woke up in the morning and found that she wasn't breathing. She looked peaceful, like she was asleep, but she was dead." Her voice hitched on the last word, and I could see her struggling to keep her composure. "She was even cold by the time I found her. I locked the door so the girls didn't see her."
A tiny spark of relief flickered in the pit of my soul. Despite the overwhelming grief, I was grateful for Rosalina's presence for her strength in shielding the children from the harsh reality of death. "Thank you," I murmured, squeezing her hand. "Thank you for taking care of my kids."
I was home.
But my Mami was no longer alive.