Nobody is a Hero
"Nobody is going to save this city. Nobody is going to stop the criminals from taking over. Nobody will protect the citizens of New York. Nobody will help those in need. Nobody is going to make a difference. Isn't that the damn truth?"
Part One
Chapter One
"Laila, wake up. Wake up Laila. LAILA!" a hard shove to my arm from my roommate finally wakes me up. I raising my head up from my calculus textbook; which is now covered with my drool. EWW.
"Eww; Gross! That's nasty!" my roommate Angie shouted at me to go clean myself up.
As I wiped the drool from my mouth in the bathroom, I looked at myself in the mirror. I look so fucking exhausted. Deep down, I know I'm going to ace this calculus midterm. So, I have no need to stay up all night for the past two nights cramming all of these numbers and equations into my keen brain. However, Angie isn't exactly a math whiz. She's not dumb; she's more of a creative type, unlike myself. The reason I'm willing to pull all-nighters with her to make sure she passes isn't because I get something in return, even thought that would be a smart idea and I want go back to dreaming about graduating. Honestly, I help her because it's what my Dad would do.
As I'm showing Angie how to find C for a problem, my phone begins to ring. It's 3am; I have no idea who would be calling me at this hour. I grab my phone off the charger, I notice the caller ID says it's Maldonado. Jason Maldonado was my dad's former partner when he was a Homicide Detective. Even after my father left Homicide to join the Gun and Gangs Unit a few years ago, those two have always been close. I consider Maldonado as an Uncle; I've known him since I was five-years-old. If he's calling me this late at night, something is wrong.
"Maldonado," I answered. "what's wrong?"
"Laila," I was beginning to panic. He never calls me by my name, he always calls me "Little Longer", the nickname he gave me when I was a little girl. Maldonado begins to hesitate, then with deep breath he finally said, "You need to St. Quentin as soon as you can; it's your Dad." He wouldn't give me any details over the phone, but it didn't matter. I already grabbed my purse and coat and out of my apartment headed to the hospital.
Me and my Dad have always been close; I am, without doubt, a Daddy's girl. While most little girls imagine their perfect dream wedding with all of their stuffed animals as wedding guest, I would arrest my stuffed animals with my finger gun and my Dad would always let me wear his police cap. I have always known that one day I would follow my father's footsteps and become a cop, much to the dismay of my mother who rather have me be a lawyer or a doctor. I originally wanted to go to the police academy after I graduated high school. However, after some heated arguments and going back and forth with my Mom, my Dad sat us down and offer up a compromise; I would first go to college and graduate with a Criminal Justice Degree, then I could join the police academy with no one, not even my mother, getting in my way. My Mom was pretty adamant about this deal. In the end, she gave up and came to terms with it. (She's just happy that I'll have a college degree.) After four years of studying and working hard for my goal, I'll be graduating from NYU in May.
My Mom has always been protective and worried about me and my Dad. My Dad because he's a cop. With me, that's a different story. Before I was born, my parents have had a hard time conceiving. After years of trying, they both decide that it wasn't meant to be. Until I popped into their lives. Literally. My Mom, who was at the time and skinny and fit as she could be, was rushed to the hospital with serve abdominal pain, thinking her appendix burst. My Dad was on shift when this happen and his Sergeant let him leave early (, knowing my father was leaving no matter what). When my Dad showed up in the hospital, still in his patrol uniform, was when the doctor told my parents that my Mom's appendix didn't burst; she was in labor. My parents concern immediately turned into disbelief. Neither of them suspected that my Mom was even pregnant. Then their disbelief turned into shock after I was born. I came into this world on February 11th, 1997 at 7:51 p.m., full term, and weighed 5 pounds and 14 ounces. From that moment on, I was my Dad's "Angel". No one ever called me that; not even my Mom. I was their miracle baby they thought they would never have. My Dad told me once that "an Angel had at last answer my and your Mother's prayers. Which is why I am never letting you go, my Angel. I'm always holding on to you!" He then hugged me from behind and wrestled me to the ground. I will always be my Dad's "Angel". Which is something he needs right about now.
Maldonado texted me to meet him, my Mom, and my Dad's partner, Guzman, in the waiting room on the second floor of the hospital. I started panicking as soon as I arrived at St. Quentin's. My thoughts started racing when I got into the elevator. "What the hell happened?! Is he in surgery? How serious were his injuries? Is he okay? God, please let him be okay." Even though I was only going up a floor, it felt like I was going up to the 50th floor.
I saw my Mom the second I stepped out of the elevator, she was sitting in a chair in the waiting room. Seeing her made me stop in my tracks. I could tell she has been crying, and I started to panic again. It was getting hard to breath. I just stood in the middle of the hallway, my mind was going to the worst-case scenario. I don't want to go up to her because what if it is the worst-case scenario.
"Laila." Maldonado voice brought me back to reality. I notice that he, Guzman, and my Mom looking back at me. She started crying again. When I walked into the waiting room, Guzman was freaking out. When I was standing in the hallway, I saw him pacing around the room, like he was trying to wrap his head around what just happened. Whatever happened.
"Laila, I'm so sorry." Guzman said holding back tears. Maldonado tried to intervene, but it was no use. "These green men just came crashing in though the skylight, everyone started shooting, our cover was blown, and then Longer was shot and those green men took him."
"Shut up, Guzman!" Maldonado grabbed him and shoved him against a wall; tears began to roll from his eyes. "Get it together! She doesn't need to hear this!"
After Maldonado let him go, he took a few deep breaths and grabbed my arm and pulled my aside. I didn't really question it. My mind was somewhere else. "Green men? My Dad's and Guzman's cover was blown. My Dad got shot."
"What the hell is going on?!" I was finally able to ask, or say anything as a matter of fact, since I arrived. Maldonado looked at me then at my Mom. I can see her still crying. I haven't gotten the chance to comfort her; let her know that my Dad was going to be okay. But then again, if this was bad news, it would be better coming from Maldonado then her.
"Laila." Maldonado grabbed my attention. I looked back at him and looked straight into his dark brown eyes. I knew I had to prepared myself for the worst.
"Your Dad and Guzman were at a gun deal on a warehouse on 5th street when a group of men in green costumes came crashing in. A shooting broke out and your Father was hit." He began to choke on his words.
"God damn it Jason! Just tell me my Dad is okay!"
"We know that the men wearing the green costumes took your Father after he was hit. He was later found outside the ER of the Hospital."
"Is he okay?" I asked. "That's all I care about." Tears began to form in my eyes. "Just tell me he's okay."
Maldonado sighed heavily. "I'm sorry Laila, your Father was found dead."
"No"
My chest started tightening; I couldn't breathe. I felt like someone just shot me in my heart. My mind was in such a daze I didn't realized I dropped my purse until I saw it on the ground.
"No, No." I shook my head and tears started rolling down my cheeks. Maldonado put his hand on my shoulder.
"Laila, I'm so sorry."
"No!"
I shoved his arm out of my way and ran towards the elevator. I heard my Mom call my name as the elevator doors close. I press the button to take me to the basement floor. If was Father was dead, there was one place he would be for sure; the morgue. The elevators doors open right across from the morgue doors. Just as I was about to run in there, I can feel someone giving me a bear hug from behind. It was Maldonado. He must've run down the stairs. He knew I needed to be sure that my Dad was dead. That no one made a mistake. That it was really him. I tried to break free from his grip, he just kept holding on to me tighter.
"Let me go, Maldonado!" I scream as I began sobbing.
"Laila, trust me. You don't want this to be the last memory you have of your Father."
I started hit and kick him just to break free. The hard reality hit me that my Dad is gone; he's dead. I'll never see him again. Maldonado began to pick me up as I started to fall to the floor, crying and screaming.
"Daddy!" I cried. I had to arm extended toward the morgue, knowing my Father was in there. Knowing that my Dad wouldn't be reaching for my hand.