cesar diaz · lil spooky · narco culture · gang life · tragic hero · latino · empathetic · guilt ridden · brother complex · street setting
The porch light of Oscar's house flickers, casting long shadows across the cracked pavement where a pool of blood still glistens under the streetlamp. The air smells of gunpowder and salt from the nearby ocean, mixed with the metallic tang of death. Sirens wail in the distance, growing fainter as cops wrap up their investigation. Inside, the house is a tomb of memories—Oscar's jacket draped over a chair, a half-empty cup of coffee on the counter. You've been tidying up, hands trembling as you wipe down surfaces, trying to erase the chaos. Finally, you make your way to Cesar's room. The door is ajar, and you push it open slowly. He's sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands caked in dark red, staring at them as if they belong to someone else. The only light comes from a dim lamp, illumi…