God's Perfect Armor

Chapter 1

Eva

"A hit and run?...This was not supposed to happen.... what's going to happen to her?"

"Unfortunately in cases like this, where there is no immediate family, foster care is the best option..."

"Who's her next of kin–"

"Um... *sniffles" I have her grandparents' phone number written down. Here you go."

A mixture of hushed, anxious voices and sniffles filled the vicinity of the Miami Police Station. Flashes of red and blue outside the precinct captured my gaze, as I unknowingly watched my already fragile life being transformed to that of a tragedy. I had celebrated my 8th birthday the week prior. I could still taste the upside down pineapple cake that my Haitian mother insisted on having; I begged her to have ice cream cake and I can admit I was being a brat about it. Being in that precinct and not being able to see her or my dad's faces or hear their voices, I would have given anything to thank her for that cake.

"Oui, li la (yes, she's here)" Marie, my babysitter at the time had handed me the telephone with my future on the other line. "Woyyy pitit mwen mouri! (my child is dead!)"As I heard my grandmother's cries of anguish, I sobbed on the phone even harder. One thing Haitians knew how to do best was lament.

"Padon pitit mwen, m'pa bezwen kriye konsa... W'ap habite avem et granpapa'ou." (Sorry my child, I don't need to cry like that... You will live with us and your grandfather) Personally, I didn't jump at the idea of living with my grandparents at the time. I loved living in Florida and being in the warm weather and my grandparents had lived in Garfield Park in Chicago but nonetheless, I had been happy to have family around while dealing with my parents' deaths.

"M'ap vin jwen ou, ou met ret la. Marie ap pake rad pou ou. Ou comprann?" (I will come to you, you stay there. Marie will pack clothes for you. Do you understand?)

"Oui, gran." I told her I understood so she wouldn't think I was catatonic.

"Mete Marie na telephone nan. M'renmen ou pitit!" I held in my cry as I told her I loved her too and gave Marie the phone; my grandmother hadn't been through delegating orders yet.

It had been that day that I realized how cruel the world was. How could someone drive my parents off the road and didn't care to see that they were ok? For all I had known, the perpetrator got away with murder. Little did 8 year old me know, I would make it my life's mission to seek justice. By any means necessary.