This book is dedicated to the original story of Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe. Upon which, an individual theme out of many has based the story.

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This story is entirely fictional and all events are by no means to promote any gangs, violence, or drugs.

This content may not be suitable for children under 12. Please review before reading it to your child.

Please note that this story is entirely summarized and additional detail may be added for entertainment. Enjoy!

Prologue

On a harsh humid evening, I was born in Guerrero, Mexico under the name of Sebastian Sanchez. It was January 17, 1985, upon which I can call it my official birth date.

The first thing I can recall as an infant was my mother and the scenic view of my broken down house; all of which, I was envious of ever since. I seem like an animal, but I was just as normal as any other human child with the consistent crying and irregular sleep schedules. Instead for one thing, I'd learn to appreciate my father more than my mother.

Although, I learned how to deal with my mother under these horrid living conditions, I still receive the utmost best care and nourishment needed for me to survive.

As months would pass, I'd mature into a young child. Although time were to pass, the influence I had against my mother was still untouched. I haven't figured into why I'm unappreciative of my mother, but I believe it may have been from influence.

I didn't see much of my father when I was young, especially during night as I would sleep among bedside with my parents as we were very poor. Often, my father would come home late and he would smell as he would be drenched in alcohol, times where he'd be drunk. But there was another significance about my father, his tattoo and bright red bandana.

My father hasn't taken care of me lately, and I wondered about the times when he'd actually been home, holding me in his arms.

It was March 1992, and that is when I saw my mother in conflict with my father. I didn't know who to believe as to who was good and who wasn't. Constant yelling and crashing occurred within the hour and I remained in silence. Just then, I heard as if something had fell. I was in the other room, minding my own business, as advised by both of my parents to stay out of the conflict.

I had no choice, but to check what occurred. What I pictured is what had happened to my mother, a reoccurrence, a deja vu. I saw my father, heavily breathing, my mother, in the other hand, lay on the floor unconscious. Although, I developed a hatred for my mother, I kneeled by her body, heavily weeping in agony and asked why my father did this to her.

He responded "I had no choice, but to ensure the security from the jeopardization of my crew. I did this for you, Sebastian." I was still on the floor, overlooking my mother, but I felt a sudden change of perception.

Ever since then, I haven't seen my father coming home, much less, roaming through our neighborhood. My mother became well, but I had to watch over her as she developed amnesia right after the incident. Even at the age of seven, I had to be the man of the house, the one in charge.

Since then, we carried on with our normal lifestyle; instead, we had less money to rely on for food.

The Beginning

Three years have passed since the incident have occurred; yet, I was still conceded by the fact that my father have resulted to this form of action against my mother and ran away from home. I still have nightmares of the event, but I had to move on. A week passed by and my mother acted differently. At first, I thought it was just her head, but instead, it was something different.

She developed a high fever and I was afraid of losing her. I felt as if I was the unluckiest person on earth, but it wasn't the time to act that way. I head away from home for awhile to pick up medicine with the little bits of money that we had and as soon as I returned, my whole world changed.

My mother who was laying at the wake of her bed, was now dead.

I cried and I cried, which soon drew the attention of my neighbors to arrive. I've mourned throughout the entire day, until an ambulance soon came by to pick her up. I knew nothing can be done, but at least I had to give the paramedics a try to bring back my mother.

Sitting out of the emergency room, a doctor came up to me and said "We've done the best we can, but your mother is now in a better place." I collapsed into the floor and I felt wasted. Everything is taken away from me, and there was nothing I could do now.

I was sent to a foster home in the event that followed; I felt pain throughout my entire life. Everything was taken away from me, by coincidence and chance.

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