Esperanza "Rhonie" Trejo

   Competition?  I would love some.   But I'm a fucking savage.   And you a simple bitch.     <BR> <BR> <BR> <BR> <BR> <BR> <BR> <BR> <BR> <BR> <BR> <BR> <BR> <BR> <BR> <BR> <BR> <BR> <BR> <BR> <BR> Abuela used to say, "The only thing you can't change in life is your family." Funny thing, that. You can change your hair, your name, your face-- but there's no market to go trade in your 'colorful' heritage for something shiny and new. Something with 2.5 kids and a picket fence. Hell, you can cheat death but that still won't wash away the blood. You can never wash away the blood.

And so it goes...she never had a chance. But she always had family. Ever churning and molding, instilling that sense of vicious loyalty that can only turn to resentment when the innocence of youth passes. But even through all the terrifying rituals of childhood, the memories of his old hands cutting the throats of her hens, the blood on her fingers-- family is family. It's first and foremost, above all else.

So, you hide that gun for your brother, you stay silent as the police tear apart your house looking for evidence, you scream and cry and cling when they drag your grandfather away.

You never stop fighting. When you can't change the only thing that would've saved you, you become its instrument, however unwilling. You sell your soul and you become the very breath of chaos. And while Abuela used to say one thing, Abuelo would say, "When there's nothing left to burn, set yourself on fire." <BR> <BR> <BR> <BR> <BR> <BR> <BR> <BR> <BR> <BR> <BR> <BR> <BR> <font color=#CC99FF> vol·a·tile <BR> <BR>
 * 1. <BR>
 * a. Tending to vary often or widely, as in price: the ups and downs of volatile stocks. <BR>
 * b. Inconstant; fickle: a flirt's volatile affections. <BR>
 * c. Lighthearted; flighty: in a volatile mood. <BR>
 * d. Ephemeral; fleeting. <BR>
 * 3. Tending to violence; explosive: a volatile situation with troops and rioters eager for a confrontation. <BR>
 * 4. Flying or capable of flying; volant. <BR>

<BR> <BR> <BR> <BR> <BR> <BR> <BR> <BR> <BR> <BR> The world is small-- getting smaller everyday. Word of mouth travels quick, superstitious lips to gossipers ears, so on and so forth until one day there's a knock at your door, an unsigned letter in your box, a dark figure trailing and then its over. Your normal life which was probably not that normal is changed forever.

It's like the mafia. Only worse. Even if there is necessity in the evil, but why bother moaning about it? "I never wanted this," is a broken record everyone's fucking sick of hearing spin-- It doesn't matter if you wanted it or not, if you love it or hate it. It's a job. It needs to be done, and if you're not going to do it...it means someone else has to.

At least chaos pays well. <BR> <BR> <BR> <BR> <BR> <BR>