I started to attempt my normal morning routine – get dressed, have a quick breakfast, brush my teeth, and quickly run to school.
“Carlo!” My mother shouted furiously upstairs, after all she was up last night keeping up with the terror going on outside. “I am going to work!”
“Really?” I was confused. “Are you sure that it is safe?”
“Yes, I have missed too much time already from the chaos outside.” You could almost here the sadness flowing out of my mother’s mouth like water flowing down the Patapsco River every day. It’s not rocket science: my mom hates her job, but it’s one of the only jobs available and she was laid off for almost a year. “Besides, I’m not working in the city today, so I won’t be risking my life struggling through the crowds. Anyway, don’t go outside today, the riots are too ferocious and I don’t want you to get hurt.”
And with that she was off. No one left to talk to, except of course the heathens rioting on the streets of course. I sat down began to fall asleep….
Suddenly, I heard a knock on the my door.
“Open up, please!” the speaker shakily announced. I sprang off the couch. Oh no, I thought, here it comes again. Another one trying to push me into the fire.
“Wh…who is this?” I stammered, trying to let the words out through my terror.
“Bro… I am your compadre, your friend! You don’t have to worry!”
The voice sounded familiar. “Wait a minute, Eduardo? Is that you?”
“Yes! Christ, is it that loud out there? Let a brother in, man!”
I opened the door. Eduardo stumbled in with a gash in his stomach.
“Eduardo! How did this happen to you?” I aksed.
Eduardo, exhausted and tired, replied, “Odio mio, compadre, my brother, Slavador, he went crazy! After the funeral of that kid, he joined the riots and wanted to join in with the crowd….” He took a break to stop and catch his breath. “I tried to stop him, but my efforts failed. I lost him in the crowd and then… some animal on the street stabbed me! Like I was the cop that attacked that kid!” He collapsed on my couch, still trying to regain his composure from the blow he just took.
“What? Did you try to call for help?”
“Si, but there was no chance… too many people… like a buffalo stampede had occurred…”
I tried to calm him down. “Don’t worry, Ed, I will try and find you some help. Just stay here, and rest.”
I tried to use the phone, but I had remembered that the power was down due to the riots. Damn it, I thought, now I have no choice.
“Ed! I have to go!”
“Wha.. What?!” Eduardo shouted, “Why?! You’re leaving me alone?!”
“Don’t worry, I am only doing this to help you! The phone lines are shot, so I have no choice but to run down to the hospital and tell them about your condition there.”
“No, Carlo, don’t leave me, por favore! I need help right now!”
“I’m sorry, but you’re not in a good condition to walk down the road. You must rest,” I felt horrible, leaving him there alone, but I had to. “I will try to be quick. Hang in there, buddy!” 
From there, I had no choice. Eddy needed me right now, so I ventured outside, into the stampede that had engulfed my friend.
The hospital was fifteen blocks away from my house. I had to run, I couldn’t let Eddy leave me like this.
I had seen the fires on the television, but they were far fiercer in person. I don’t think that I had ever seen a fire that large in my lifetime, not in my city. The streets crowded with angry people, walls crashing down, an entire city, once prosperous and flourishing now burning to the ground.
Then I saw that ballpark, Camden Yards, I think it’s called. There were a couple of trucks packing up some equipment, like they had a place to go or something. All of the workers were working fast, shouting at each other, “Vamos, compadres ! Tenemos que conseguir todo, hasta Tampa antes de que esos vigilantes regresan y tratamos de ponernos en su basura Freddie Gray!” I think they were talking about the “home” games for our baseball team, the Orioles, being moved down to Florida to escape the riots.
After a few more blocks, I made it to the packed hospital. The lines went back almost all the way to the door and people were covering almost every inch of the waiting room. As I waited, I thought about Eduardo, wondering if he had been taken by the riots. Is he still alive? Had he been taken by the riots, like Poppa?
I finally made it to the front. I told the woman at the desk “My friend… he was injured during the riots… stabbed in the stomach… he needs help” I gasped.
The woman thought for a bit. Then she said, “We don’t have much room, it’ll be a tight fit…”
“PLEASE!” All of my emotions – fear, exhaustion – came out in that yell, “My friend could die! I know that there are a lot of people who are in horrible conditions, but if you just bring him here… just drive him over, then there’s a chance that he will survive. Please!”
“Well, okay, we can always make room for more.”
After a few minutes of waiting, we drove off to my house. The streets were still packed with protestors, infuriated and hostile. At one point, there was nothing I could see from the window in the ambulance but picket signs.
After about twenty minutes, we made it back to my house. I ran inside. “Eddy? Eddy?” I shouted. “Eddy, we’re here!”
“Sir! We think we found your friend,” a paramedic exclaimed, “It doesn’t look pretty.”
“Wha…. What?” I stammered over. Eduardo lay on the ground lifeless, another victim of the case of Freddie Gray.