Why Did He Do It
890 Words
******Maria’s POV*****
When I was little, I could never figure out why my brother was always so angry. I knew he hated Mom, but I never understood the reason. I’d ask him what she’d done wrong, and he’d ignore me—so eventually, I stopped trying.
Despite his fury at the world, he never directed it at me. He worked tirelessly for my sake, constantly reminding me to strive for something better. Whenever I did well in school, I credited him—he was the one who kept telling me I could become anything I wanted.
*******Narrator’s POV (Fourteen Years Earlier) ******
Sisquo stood at the side of the social worker’s car, arms crossed and tears streaming down his face. After three years in foster care, he believed he’d spend the rest of his life with the Garcias. But just as the adoption was about to be finalized, his birth mother appeared in court, halting the process. The statute allowed her two years to step forward; she didn’t show until the third.
“Sisquo, I know you don’t want to go, but your mother is doing better now,” Ms. Garcia said, lifting his chin with a gentle smile. She’d been to every visit, every doctor’s appointment, every school meeting for the past year.
He was nine years old. The Garcia household had transformed his life: warm meals, hugs, hunting trips with Mr. Garcia—and a little sister he adored and protected. He knew she was happy there, too.
Sisquo sank into the back seat, wishing he could hold onto Ms. Garcia just a bit longer. Mrs. Garcia fastened his seatbelt and pressed a tearful kiss to his forehead. “Promise me something,” she whispered.
“Anything!” he replied.
“Take care of your sister. Make sure she’s safe and never hungry. And if you ever need me, call. I love you,” she said, planting another kiss on his forehead before closing the door.
“I love you, too! I’ll call every day!” He never realized those would be his final words to her. His mother’s jealousy severed their bond. From then on, Ms. Garcia became a name he could no longer speak.
It was heartbreaking for both families. The Garcias mourned losing the children they’d raised; Sisquo felt abandoned and certain the best years of his life were behind him. He wondered if anything good would ever come again.
He recalled the life before foster care and the few overnights with his mother last year: the TV blaring, her disappearing to her room, the occasional outing. She never showed the same frustration in front of others that she did at home—especially toward toddler Maria. To spare her mother’s anger, he’d step in and care for his sister whenever he could.
******Present – Maria’s POV******
I sit in a booth, wiping away tears. Sisquo just stormed out after our argument.
“I know it’s messed up—your brother killed your mother,” Sledge says softly. But I understand why he did it. She auctioned you off to the highest bidder to get high. A parent should protect their child, and she failed you over and over.”
He shrugs. “He’s still your brother. Family is family. What you decide now is up to you.”
He’s right, but it’s hard to reconcile her addiction with her murder. I remember overhearing adults say that one of her dealers tried to assault Sisquo when he was three or four. He never spoke of it, but I heard the whispers. Then, when that same dealer lunged at me, Sisquo snapped—beating him until blood pooled on the floor. He always kept me safe.
“Who fed you at home?” Sledge asks.
“Sisquo did,” I answered, slumping back. “Mom was always too high. She’d buy groceries, but when that guy showed up, we couldn’t eat her food. So Sisquo snuck snacks in for me.”
He nods. “He took so many blows protecting you, he was scared he’d kill Alejandro—that’s why he left.”
“Yeah,” I whisper, tears welling up again. “He was the only one who ever looked out for me. Maybe I should call him after things cool down.”
Drama follows my family like a shadow. Who would sign up for this? Sledge should run now.
“You’re right,” I admit with a sigh. “I still love my brother. He took her away from me, but also took every chance she had to make things better. I have so many questions: Who abused him? Is that why I ended up in foster care? Why did Mom fall apart when Alejandro left? Did she care about what he tried to do to me? Did she ever notice the scars on Sisquo—did she even care?”
“It’s a lot to carry alone,” Sledge says quietly. “I want to help you through it. Don’t shut me out.”
I manage a small smile.
“Thanks, Sledge. I… need a distraction.“
I know just the thing.” He stands and holds out his hand.
I laughed through tears. “What is it?”
“We’re going for a ride,” he grins, leading me toward the door.
- Writer
