“I freaking punched Sam…,” moaned Carmen, banging the door.  “Ro?” called out Carmen, hearing her voice echoing against the walls of the old garage.  “I so hate myself right now…  Fuck you, Shane, for making me a woman beater… I swear…”

            A clattering sound from below her in the garage made her stop in her tracks.  The barrio wasn’t usually all that dangerous to people who’d grown up here, but sometimes, things just happened.

            Moving to the closet, finding it ironic for a moment, and fishing into it, pulling out a baseball bat that Rosita kept there, as she was about to pull the door open, someone banged on the door.  Carmen jumped, holding the bat tightly.

            “Carmen,” came the begging voice on the other side of the door.  Carmen yanked it open without thought, letting Jesus crumple into the kitchen. 

            “Jesus, what happened to you?” asked Carmen, reaching out with trembling hands to touch her beaten brother. 

            “Rosita, she… she beat me down, Carmen,” coughed Jesus.

            “She what?” asked Carmen, getting up and going to the cabinet, finding an old dish towel and trying to mop up some blood that was still on Jesus’ face.

            “Yeah, just…  I gotta get outta here, Carmen.  I gotta get out, cuz if I don’t, and the gang finds out that I got beat down by the lawyer…  I’m toast,” moaned Jesus.

            Carmen got up, going into the living room, not knowing what to do.  Her young brother was trouble, from the day of birth, it seemed.  Carmen turned, right into Jesus’ arms, “What do you got, Carmen?  How much are you stowing away?  Give me it,” threatened Jesus.

            “No,” said Carmen, wrenching her arm away from Jesus.  Stumbling, but Jesus wasn’t giving up.  He grabbed at Carmen again, roughly pulling her towards him.

            “Where you hiding it?  Huh? Used to hide it under ya pillow, it still ya fave hiding place?” he asked roughly, stomping into the bedroom that Carmen was using.  Carmen got up, grabbing at him, but he turned, slapping her back handed, sending Carmen backwards. 

            Jesus said nothing, ransacking the room, as Carmen sat on the floor, cowering against the couch, holding her hand to her face.  Jesus came stomping out of the bedroom, holding a wad of cash that Carmen had been saving for new DJ’ing equipment.  “I shot her, hope she fucking dies,” he said thickly, walking away.

            It took a minute for Carmen to process what he’d just said, then she got up and ran the half block to the Center, hoping that Rosita was there, and not dead in an alley way.  If she ever saw her brother again, Carmen was going to kill him.

            “I’ll call her when we get to the ER, until then…,” said Jayden to Rosita, who was leaning on Bette heavily, pale. 

            “Si, si, just quit ya yapping,” ordered Rosita.  Just then, she saw Carmen rounding the corner, sweaty and seemingly knowing what was going on.

            “Ro!  Mother fuck, he wasn’t lying, he shot you!” yelled Carmen, grabbing Rosita into a hard hug.  Ro swung one arm around her, kissing her cheek, and Carmen just squeeze more tightly.

            “Breathe, can’t…,” coughed Ro.  Carmen pulled back, looking down at her leg, seeing the bullet hole in the pants.  The blood that covered most of her leg, and Carmen began to take in the reality of who was there with Rosita.

            “Bette, what are you doing here?” asked Carmen suddenly, kneeling to look at Rosita’s leg, then looking away.  Feeling the vomit rising to her mouth, turning puking.

            Jayden jumped back, getting splashed with some of the projective vomit.  “That was gross,” lamented Jayden.

            “All of you, into the car, to the hospital,” ordered Bette, wagging a finger. 

            “Bossy dyke,” muttered Rosita.

            “You got that right,” agreed Jayden, shaking her foot off and making a face of disgust, heading to the hospital.