Murderville Page 0,20

level of this business,” Abia explained.

Liberty sat silently, feeling helpless. “I just want to go home,” she whispered, referring to her old village as she thought of the family she had lost.

“This is your home now,” Abia hissed. “And you better get used to it. The sooner you start following the rules, the easier it will be. They will only tolerate your disobedience for so long before you aren’t worth the trouble. You can do this and be a part of this or do nothing at all,” Abia said as she sliced one finger across her neck as if it were a sharp knife. “Do you understand?”

Liberty nodded, quickly knowing exactly what Abia meant. They would kill her if she didn’t comply and assimilate to the way that things were done. Liberty’s eyes misted as she watched Abia walk out of the room. She was the most beautiful woman Liberty had ever met, but Liberty was disgusted by her ugly soul. She listened as the clicking of Abia’s stiletto heels echoed down the hall until the sound disappeared. She tucked her knees to her chest and laid her head on top of them as she cried a river. To survive she was going to have to sell her soul to the devil. Young Liberty may have given up on GOD, but she knew that the devil was real because she was living in hell.

Six months had passed and A’shai was getting used to the routine. He and a crew of other young field workers hid behind the dumpster in the inner city of Tijuana. It was another hustle of the Mexican cartel. They had the youth target the tourists in the area. They were trained to point out and rob Americans with money. It was just another day in the life, and A’shai scoped the busy city street for potential victims. What at first seemed cruel had become a way of life for the young workers, and A’shai somewhat adapted to the working conditions in the cocaine fields and on the streets. For some of the workers, the cocaine fields provided a better living than in their native countries where poverty was an everyday lifestyle. The Mexican cartel ran the governmental structure in Tijuana, so there wasn’t any means of help. Life was what it was . . . hell.

As the boys hid behind the oversized dumpster, they watched as the wealthy American tourists walked the small strip were the local shops were located. They were looking for a mark that seemed to have money so that they could snatch a bag or purse. The field workers would do this every weekend in hopes of hitting a jackpot. A’shai was the youngest of the boys, but he was the fastest so they usually made him do the actual snatching.

“You see those diamonds?” the eldest said after they saw a beautiful woman come out of one of the shops. She was dipped in diamonds and blinged as the sun hit her ring, bracelet, and necklace. She had a fair complexion and her slim body was immaculate. She looked like she could be a famous super-model, and with the kind of jewelry she had on, she just might have been.

“Shai, she is the one. I bet you she has tons of money de’ purse,” the Haitian boy said in a heavy accent.

“I got it. I got it,” A’shai said as he stared at the potential victim.

A’shai nodded his head as he rubbed his hands together, waiting for the right time. He came from behind the dumpster and began to walk towards her. A’shai put his hands in his pockets, trying to look as natural as possible as he neared the unsuspecting woman. His heart began to beat fast as he approached the woman who held her purse in one hand and a shopping bag in the other. He felt the adrenaline kick in and that’s when he went for it. He ran up to the lady and snatched both bags from her hands and took off towards the alley where his accomplices were waiting.

“Hey! Come back here!” the lady yelled just before pulling off her stilettos to give chase. A’shai was running full speed as the boys cheered him on, but he stepped in a pothole in the road and twisted his ankle, drastically slowing him. He grimaced in pain and hobbled to the alley, giving the woman time to gain on him. Once he reached the alley, the lady had caught