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Jun 2016
I come from the large Texas city Houston. Where prices are decent, and crime is high, that includes death. Spring Break of 2016, I saw on Instagram, people I half *** knew were posting pictures of you, saying you had gone missing. I was baffled. I hardly knew you, but I still did parcally know you from sharing the same first period class. I knew you by your first name, but couldn't tell you I could remember your last. Days passed, your story stumbled onto the news. The same picture being displayed across television screens across the city, attempting to find your kidnapper. Your father had been shot and burned. Reporters said it was possible that you witnessed this. I hope you didn't witness your father's demise, I really do. I was getting my hair done at a salon when my father told me police had found your corpse. They first announced she was shot, then sexually assaulted. My heart dropped, this was the youngest tragedy I had witnessed before, but, again, I barley knew you. I knew when I came back to school after the week long break that the atmosphere would be somber. First period, algebra. That was the only class you and I shared. Our teacher talked about you, with such kind words, choking up, and in tears. The principal and councilors visited, making sure no one was shaken too bad by her passing. I looked from across the room where you used to sit, on the complete opposite side of the room, at your now hallow desk. Funny, how before the break, our teacher spoke of being safe because she knew a teacher friend of hers who lost two students of his, and how devastated he was over it, knowing they'd never come back or step foot in his class room. It's the same for my highschool algebra teacher. One of the last days we had with her before finals, she asked us to write letters to Adriana's mother, that she'd give them to her, she asked in tears once more. I wrote her mother, saying how no one deserves this kind of loss. How her daughter was a good kid. I went off of what her best friend told me in drawing class as a base to Adriana's personality. She seemed bright, and bubbly, and friendly, and joy, and laughter. But alas, I never knew her, and I will never get to know you, because you have been taken, sooner than expected.
Kit Lucas Zachary
Written by
Kit Lucas Zachary  Transgender Male/Texas
(Transgender Male/Texas)   
474
 
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