In our AP English class we are required to participate in a local essay writing contest for a grade. this month we have to write a short story based on a culture different from our own. I've started on a story about a gang member in Chicago trying to change, and here's what I've got so far, more to come. Feel free to comment however you like, but I'd appreciate honesty, because I want to make it better.
Breaking the Habit
There was nothing that he could do to help her. All that Anthony Declasse could do now was watch as his girlfriend of the past year collapsed on the floor of his apartment, a bullet hole in her head. In the back of his mind, he heard the echo of the gunshot rumble in the distance and the screeching of tires as the Pits got away. He had seen things like this before, he had even been a part of the other side of the deal in the past, but this was an entirely new experience. He had no clue what to say, or even think. He had never in his wildest dreams expected himself to be the “unlucky one” although, to be honest, that was his life.
Anthony was born on the West Side of Chicago, from an accidental pregnancy of a gang leader and one of his dealers. They kept him, but that’s all they did. He spent much of his childhood crying, and more often than not he simply received a slap or two for it. When the gang was broken up, he was adopted at the age of six by a couple out in the suburbs. What would seem to become a lucky break for Anthony turned into more fuel for the fire when the father turned to alcohol after losing his job. He became abusive, and beat his wife and step-son often. His mother died when he was 12, and around that time he began experimenting with drugs. He was easily hooked, and eventually it took over his life. He got hooked up with the Vipers, a gang of the city, from a fellow druggy, and quickly became a full time member. Within the gang, he felt the one sense of belonging that he still had in his life, a sense that he was part of something special. It was this brotherhood that, along with his girlfriend, kept him going. Violence was commonplace in his life, although, despite this, he felt untouchable when he was with his homies.
“Daddy, what happened?” said a voice from under the sink. His daughter, Charity, had dared to peek out of the cabinet. He eventually came out, and timidly walked over to his mother. “What’s wrong with Mommy?” she asked, when she shook her and her head fell forward. Anthony didn’t know what to say, he was still numb from the shock. He heard his daughter begin to cry, and, suddenly, he fell back on the ragged sofa that was the one piece of furniture in the apartment. Charity soon climbed up and curled up on his lab, head against his shoulder, sobbing. Nobody came to them: they were all alone.
He didn’t move an inch for the next two days, all he did was think. He realized that his life wasn’t all that he thought it was cracked up to be, and saw - perhaps for the first time - how sickly Charity looked. The absence of his brothers that made up the gang disturbed him; he saw that that wasn’t the type of family he wanted. Then, a simple, scary idea came to him: he could change. Yes, he could leave the gang, try to start things over. But that was crazy, he could never do that. He would be betraying his gang, and not only did that bug him spiritually, but the thought of the whole gang against him scared him beyond belief. And he hadn’t been alone in the world for so long, he felt as if he would break in two. He decided to take a step out into town, and think it over.
He was out in the business district of the neighborhood, although most of the legitimate business in those parts consisted of bars and small corner stores. He was waiting at a corner to cross when he glanced at the telephone pole next to him, and a slightly torn flyer on the pole caught his eye:
St. Jude Rehabilitation Center
A confidential, non-profit organization dedicated to helping those in dire situations back into society. No cost to the customer, please call 1-800-432-5464 for an anonymous conference with one of our advisors.
For the second time that day, the same message had entered his mind, but this time, it seemed to make a bit more sense. He liked the fact that it was confidential, so he wouldn’t have to give out his name to be intercepted by gang members. Along with that, he had never heard of the place before, even from his trips to the police station, which made it even more hidden seeming. He thought that he would give it a try, for the very least, for Charity. He took down the number and found a quarter off the street to make the phone call. After a short conversation with the operator, he found that there was a class starting two days from then, and signed himself up on the spot.
On the night of the class Anthony was stiff as a board with anxiety. He was again doubting that he should go to this, fearing that he would be seen, or perhaps recognized by someone else at the class. In the end, though, he got control of himself, and decided to cover up in an old trench coat and a hat that he had mugged off of someone a few years back. He slipped on his shoes, and left out the door. Despite his measures to disguise himself, he was still very much so in a paranoid state of mind. He'd jump at the sound of a car, and stare so intently at the ground when he passed by person that passerby would stop and look down for a minute to try to see what he was looking at. He was two blocks away from the place when he heard something that he'd been dreading to hear the whole night.
"Yo, 'Tony D, where you goin'? The raid's tonight!" said a voice from behind him. Anthony whipped around to face Trucco, one of the bigger, more prominent members of the gang. "I ain't goin', I got stuff to do," Anthony replied, his hands were shaking. "What the hell you talkin' 'bout, man? We gotta get back at the Pits fo' what they did to yo' girl." Anthony stood stiff for a minute, unsure of what to do or say. From the corner of his mind, he thought that he could just lie to Trucco, saying that he had to get something first, to get him off his case, but the something bolder came to him. "I don't care anymore, man, ya know what? I ain't a part of this anymore, man, I'm out." Suddenly he was slammed against the wall, and Trucco said "I don't care what you thinkin', man, but you no' nobody ain't gon' leave the Vipers, you know what I'm sayin', man?"
He then hear a loud thud, and Trucco collapsed. Now in front of him stood a young boy who looked like he was coming from a baseball practice. "Are...you ok?" he said, unsure of exactly what to say, as Anthony was a rather intimidating figure himself. "Yeah...I'm cool, man... thanks." Anthony replied, also unsure of how to react to this stranger. After a couple minutes, Anthony turned away and started walking again, with new confidence in his plan. He'd had enough with this "you strike me, I strike you back" business, and he just wanted out of it, for his and Charity's sake.
He had reached the building by now, which, from the outside, looked a lot like small, run down warehouse building. He went in, and walked down the hallway that led to the only door he could see. He entered through the door, and saw a group of people gathered in a circle. He had expected to see some familliar faces, but what hit his eyes was odder than that. In front of him he saw about 20 ex gang members that he knew from various gangs across the city, but they were all in collar shirts and slacks, waving and even smiling at him! "Hello" said a man who looked like he ran the program. "I'm Tom Guar, welcome to your new life"
some notes:
Declasse (with accents over the e's) means "given lower social status." found that out on accident, and decided to use it.
St. Jude is the patron saint of dire situations
when you put the phone number into letters, it spells out "healing"
Trucco means "trick" in italian.
Guar means "heal" in italian
