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I just thought he was this goofy, kind-hearted ginger that I worked with that made me laugh. I was wrong. I was nervous, yet very intrigued by this person. He was such a mystery to me and I wanted more. I have always been really interested in true crime, particularly documentaries on the mafia from back in the early s, but never did I think I would meet someone in a gang, let alone be involved with them romantically. Time passed and soon our awkward flirting at work turned into meet ups in the parking lot after my shift ended.
We were so into each other. I loved it. There was nothing more exciting than to go to work and be with someone that made you feel all giddy inside. It definitely made the days go by quicker. One day, after we had already been hanging out for a few hours, I decided it was time to see if he would explain a little more about what happened and why he was arrested for gang activity.
His demeanor changed instantly when I asked. He went from joking around about a giant sweatshirt to being serious and almost intimidating. He closed the open window to his little apartment, fearful of the children who were playing below to hear him, which honestly made me regret even asking the question in the first place.
One nearly died because of me. The cops surrounded me and I was arrested. Hurt a lot of people how? This, however, was the real deal. I was getting information from someone who had been involved with dangerous crimes, who had run from the law, had a warrant out for his arrest, sold illegal drugs, and had just been released from jail four months before I met him. What was it about him that intrigued me so much? It was so hard for me to believe that he had done the things he had done and was still such an active member of his gang.
He always treated me like a princess and made me feel so beautiful and good. He told me that I was the first person to ever make him feel like he was worth more than just useless garbage. That I made him see the light for the first time. But maybe I took pity on him; maybe I felt good that someone needed me so desperately to make them feel good about themselves when I myself was struggling with my own issues. I just remember the way he would look at me. He saw me like I was a goddess, and I loved that.
I had to be a secret. We would have to rent hotel rooms just to have some time alone where no one could find us, only paying with cash, and when his phone would buzz and they told him it was time to go out, there was no saying no. It was a life I had never lived before. Suddenly, my small town, safe life that I was so comfortable with turned into drugs, alcohol, and constantly looking over my shoulder to see who may be watching me.
I always thought I could fly under the radar, but I was naive to the fact of how gang members find out everything if you are somehow associated with them. I think I was caught up in the carefree lifestyle that he led.
I drank too. So much that it became a problem in itself. I was hanging out with the wrong people, neglecting my normal life, and drinking myself to sleep every night. I knew better, so why was I here? I received the call around midnight. I was alone, passed out because I was so high—what a low time in my life—and he was pissed on the other end of the call. I was so out of it, I had just woken up to a phone call, still actively high from my evening activities and thoroughly confused as to what was going on.
They wanted to kill me. I have always heard on the shows I watch that gangs always know where you are. If you have information on them, they will always know your whereabouts in case you slip up. That is true. They do. For two weeks, someone would come to my apartment and try to come in around midnight.
They would jiggle my doorknob and whistle outside my door, slowly whistling to the tune of a song I could not make out. I called the cops one morning at 4 a. The cops came and my management team from my complex had someone stationed outside my apartment from 11 p. Eventually it stopped happening. I am not someone you would look at and think was involved with anything of this manner.
I was drinking heavily every night, staying up late, searching for drugs and hanging out with gang members and drug dealers. I was so angry all the time. Little things would set me off and make me want to find a distraction to ease my mind. The cycle continued. One of our last times out together was at a shitty motel that he paid for in all cash on a blistering hot July day. The motel was so gross and you could hear people talking about drugs in the room next door. We found out at six weeks and I became an even bigger mess. I will say despite everything he has done in his life, he did step up and protect me here and be there for me.
But we had just called it off before finding out. The threats on my life were getting worse and we feared that at any moment, something terrible and irreversible could happen. He did mention the baby to his friends, though. I was fearful of this. I was disgusted with that comment. I had lost my first baby, someone I thought cared for me, and I was lost. I was doing drugs, drinking a lot, and always finding ways to destroy my life slowly.
We ended things because he knew I would never willingly the gang, but it was too late. I was already affiliated with a dangerous, large gang in the metro area where I live. I will forever know this information about them, know what I myself have done while being with a gang member, and for the longest time, was fearful something would happen to me like his gang had threatened.
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Gang masculinity and high risk sexual behaviors