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Devin was right – we did used to have lots of things. We had new hardwood floors in a two bedroom apartment just outside of Radnor, Pennsylvania. We had the leg lamp from a Christmas story in our living room that Devin got at a garage sale. We had Taco Tuesday every Wednesday because Devin always had class late on Tuesdays and couldn’t really enjoy it. We had decided what our sons’ names would be and that we wouldn’t push sports on them. We had lots of things.
We also had lots of problems. You see, while Devin and I had an apartment with a living room that housed the leg lamp from a Christmas story – we paid for that apartment by pushing drugs for Devin’s friend Camden.
As security at school got increasingly more present, Camden and Devin were forced to scout out other neighboring universities. They offered competitive prices which caused some tension with some of the other entrepreneurs.
One Wednesday, I had sent Devin out to get more taco shells. He had been gone a while and as I went to call and see where he was, the door burst open violently. A team of five men came walking in and I slowly crawled into the island where I had been prepping the jalapenos.
The sound of their footsteps on our hardwood floors was muffled by the breaking of the leg lamp, our coffee table and our television set. I heard a knife rip through our new suede couch and wept silently as they broke our world…and then nothing.
I woke up on the mangle couch and saw Devin dragging a man across the floor…a trail of blood not far behind. He looked at me, and almost cracked smile and whispered, “Help me.”
As I rubbed my eyes, attempting to focus in on our demolished home, Devin gently slapped my face as though to ask me to “Snap out of it.” and insisted I help him place the man into the trunk of his Explorer, where I would find myself less than a year later…also begging for help.
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