FRO12 LC12

I remember the day I lost my brother. We were staying in Mexico for a little while visiting family members. I was only five years old and my brother was one. I was at a birthday party with my cousin and my little brother had stayed with my grandmother and mom in the house. It was my turn to take a hit at the Piñata when our neighbor comes into the backyard with a scared look on her face; she said my mom was looking for us. I remember we rushed home and my grandmother was waiting for us with an angry panicked look on her face. It sent me chills down my spine, something was wrong, my grandmother was never angry. “Why did you leave the gate open?” I ran inside and I saw my mom was crying hysterically holding my little brothers bottle, “I found this at the gate…” My dad and older cousin had left on the car to nearby towns to see if anyone knew anything, organizing search parties. My cousin, mom, grandmother and I looked all over the ranch and around town. I felt numb I couldn’t believe it, I was scared … terrified. Somehow someone made an announcement in the town square and everyone was at the ranch helping to look as well. Someone must have kidnapped him. He left his bottle by the gate. I hugged my mom defeated, I cried like I had never cried in my life before. Then one of the town’s people came up to me and said, “Have you looked under the bed?”