I often heard that a good family generally produces a well-adjusted productive member in the society. If that is so, then I lost the life lottery big time. Born to a whore of a women who only gave life to me and to my siblings so she can collect child support and welfare. Who knows what her circumstances were. Maybe she herself was a victim or simply a lazy bitch. After living under her authority I’m 100% sure it’s the latter for her.

I was always little smarter than your average kid. Kept me out of trouble and less work to get decent grades at school. Getting too good of a grade in my ghetto school will get your ass kicked by other looser kids. That crab in the bucket mentality. Tests were too easy, so I skipped half of my homework to intentionally get openly scowled by the teacher during class. Even with this I pulled B average in all my subjects. I can’t believe 20% of the grade is based on doing homework. Half the kids copy of each other anyways. How’s that supposed to rate how much you learn.

I hated this shitty neighbor. Yeah, I was basically trailer trash. That women whom I refused to call mother anymore used most of the money on herself as she partied and eat herself to fatness while her kids lived of scraps.

I and my siblings where always hungry as kids. I started working under the table jobs when I turned 15, but it was never enough. I used most of the money to feed my younger siblings in secret. I couldn’t stand doing nothing while my kid brothers and sister suffered as I did.

As my siblings were getting older they needed more money, so I threaten to report her if she didn’t hand over my share of the child care from a father I’ve never seen. In truth I want to report this woman, but I couldn’t. I knew us siblings would be separated and I didn’t want that. We only had each other and as the big brother, I stepped up to the plate to take care of them. In any case, combined with my pocket money and my share of child support wasn’t enough for the 4 of us siblings.

That led me to join my buddy Alex in working for the local dealers. They said because we were underage from under privileged home the law would not be hard on us. These fuckers loved recruiting juveniles. Needless to say, I never joined. On the way to the dealers, Alex was gunned downed by competitor to make an example to scare away potential recruits. I receive the message loud and clear.

I was taken to the police stationed for questioning. That’s when officer Johnson introduced me to one of his Army buddy. A retired Major. He was on a wheelchair in old army fatigue. Major Profit. Yeah, awesome name.

I later learned that he was a badass during his time in the service. Fought in the New Babylon conflict in 2089 to 2092. When the insurgents refuse to accept the Persian government making peace with the American Government. I guess old hatreds die hard. A very bloody conflict that won him a blood bar, combat commission in support of New Babylon’s decision.

Then in 2099 he was sent to South America with 82nd Airborne Division, 1st BCT. An expedition to suppress new strains of highly addictive drugs that were not killing but mentally crippling people and costing trillions of tax dollars in medical care where ever the drugs are pushed. It was a flagrant attack on the people of North America. The new strains were so well made to mimic the usual narcotics that it was difficult to identify, not even the pros could identify them.

Major Profit had a very promising career, he was promotable to Lieutenant Colonel, until a mortar round landed at his feet. Taking both his legs and his family jewels. Shit!

He would have probably made General if he wasn’t medically discharged.

Major Profit filled the father role I never had. Thinking back now, I really needed someone like him to teach me to be a man. A real man! I didn’t realize it then, but Officer Johnson did. They saw me struggling, trying to do the right thing, but making wrong choices. They were both good men doing what was right in their eyes. They counseled, helpwd, and mentored me for the next 2 years. They helped me to think constructively for my life instead of reacting to my environment. And in doing so I would better serve as a better example for my younger siblings. In the process I joined the ROTC program to pay for university to make something of myself, and receiving a Sergeant’s pay really helped me to financially help my younger sibling.

After my Airborne School, before I start Junior year, I was visiting my siblings. Jason 16, Rene 15, and Jose 14. That’s when the shit hit the fan. Jason did what I did and got involved with the wrong crowd trying to make some cash. He wasn’t strong enough to take that mad women’s shit every day. So he ran with the bad crowd to run away from home. That bitch drove him out.

When I tried to physically take Jason from the drug dealers, the Fuckers actually shot my ass. I told them I’m his older brother and his coming home. The last words I heard was “nobody leaves once they join”

Wow, I can’t believe I died like a bitch. It was just too naïve thinking I could just walk in and walk out. These fuckers were bat shit crazy murdering so casually. Being in the university environment for the last 2 years really made me complacent. I really did lose in the life lottery.

I really tried to make a stand for my younger siblings. It hurt to watch them suffer as I did. I could have run way but I chose to make a stand. I can’t say I have too much regrets as I tried my best with occasional fuck ups.

I, Chris Garcia, a white looking red hair dude, with a Latino last name from a father I’ve never seen, died at the age of 20, to a drug crazed addict. That’s some shit!

Well, this is the short version of the story.