Editor's Note: This piece won first place in the Fiction category of the 2024 City Tech Writer Creative Writing competition, in which students were asked to write a creative response to one entry from the 2023 volume of CTW. Angelica writes, "This is a response to Alexis Garcia's "How To Push Your Children Away From Religion." I took inspiration from the family aspect of this work. However, instead of Alexis' family's relationship with religion, I’m depicting my own family's relationship with each other."

I. War

“She is coming home with me!” The mom shouted as she yanked her daughter by the arm towards her.

“No, she staying here!” The dad gripped his daughter in place.

The daughter felt like a rag doll being fought over by two elementary schoolkids. They all stood in front of the apartment building her father lived in at the time. The girl wished she was invisible. She felt the eyes of bystanders on the sidewalk watching with their judgements at her broken family.

“Ask her who she wants to be with," Dad stated with confidence.

She looked at her father and felt betrayed. How could she be asked to choose? She knew that the war she was born into led to this moment. The grand finale of a custody battle that wouldn’t even end in her decision. She considered the two options and prayed a third would be made known to her.

“Well? Are you coming?” The mom asked her daughter. Her eyes were hopeful, her fear recognizable. The silence was deafening. The girl wanted to be swallowed by the safety of that moment, the eye of the storm. Where nobody was yet to be hurt. Where the only desire was family.

II. Little Brother

The sound of a light ringing awakens me from my sleep. I open my eyes to find black smoke fill the air and my lungs. I gasp and turn to see my little brother with his head resting on his seatbelt atop his booster. His dirty blonde hair forming spikes on his sweaty forehead. His eyes are still shut. My father appears to the right, opening the car door and yanking me out of the car.

I hear a woman scream while my father sets me down carefully on the grass nearby. Behind him I see our car smashed in the front by what seemed to be a head on collision with another car. His girlfriend in the front seat clutches her legs as she continues to scream. I can't see the other driver but I'm more concerned for my brother.

The girl wanted to be swallowed by the safety of that moment, the eye of the storm. Where nobody was yet to be hurt. Where the only desire was family.

My father rushes to reunite my brother and me. There are tears rushing down his freckled filled cheeks. I grab him with my own instinct and hold him close while our father goes back for the final time. His cries grow louder. I understand his fear. I check his body for harm and find none. “Hey, it’s okay. Are you hurt?” My voice surprises him. He stops and shakes his head, no. “You’re okay now. It’s okay.”

I pull him close and we stare at the scene that has unfolded.

Move!

Faster! I think to myself as I run past my dad and brother towards our apartment building in uptown Manhattan. My feet propel me forward with the strength and energy of my youth. I speed though a curved road. Across the street to my left, there are 6-floor bricked apartment buildings and to my right there’s a tall stone wall that held back the forest towering over the street. I run as fast as my little legs can take me. I can see our building in the distance. I’m so close!

I finally stop in front of an arched doorway with two thick green wooden doors that lead to the 181st train station, a station I’m familiar with. I turn back to see if my family managed to catch up to me but alas they haven’t emerged from behind the curved road. They walk too slow. I think, annoyed I might have to wait.

I glance at the road and I’m struck with temptation. I can cross this. It’s just a street. I’ve crossed thousands of streets a thousand times with my dad, what is the difference if I go alone now? I hear my dad’s voice in my head, “Always wait for me.”

I hesitate at the thought but continue forward. I slowly step down onto the street and shuffle ahead to peak from in between two parked cars. The coast is clear. I make the decision to go for it. I’m almost halfway across when I suddenly hear a roar racing towards me.

I abruptly turn to see a car barrelling down the road in my direction. Reality finally hits me. I feel the weight of my mistake in my entire body, preventing me from moving. My eyes grow wide and my body weakens. Move! my mind screams, but my body is frozen in place. Panic sets in. The car grows closer, a monster getting ready to eat me. I muster up all of my strength and will my legs to function. My legs awkwardly begin to move, as if I’m learning to walk for the first time again. They string along the top of my body as if they are separate entities. Faster! I tell myself in order to escape on time. The cars engine roars but I somehow manage to make it to the other side unscathed. The car drives past me and I turn wobbly with tears in my eyes to face my dad and brother on the other side of the street.

III. The Magic of a Haircut

Snip. Snip. Snip. The scissors sing as she cuts his hair. She smiles happily and makes adjustments according to her youtube expertise. She takes the recently bought plastic blue spray bottle and wets his quickly drying hair. “I’m honestly doing so good," she says, positioning herself in front of him and grabbing his chin, examining how he looks from the front.

“I hope so," he responds jokingly. His eyes are glued onto the 75’’ TV he made them buy, as their first piece of furniture for their newly leased apartment. After asking her to cut his hair for so long, he’s just content she’s cutting it at all.

“I miss when my mom used to cut my hair.” he reminisces. “ It was our special time together, where I felt she took care of me the best.”

I know my love. Just don’t expect quality level with me.” She giggles. Even though she is trying her best, she lacks the finesse of a professional. But that doesn’t matter. He doesn’t care much for his looks. This complemented her resentment towards societal beauty standards, the ones that came from her mother. She didn’t need to be perfect for him.

“Done!”

“Alright, let’s see it then.”

They walk from their living room to the bathroom of their one bedroom apartment. He looks in the mirror and they burst out laughing together.