And into her life walked a beautiful man.

Tall, strong, and charming, but in his eyes you could catch a glimpse of the horrors he has seen.

A soldier.

A damaged man.

He was untrusting. Didn’t like to be touched.

He would fall to ground at the sound of fireworks and reach out to her, as if suddenly blind. Her words the compass to guide him home.

She pictured a life with him. After all, hadn’t papi been a broken soldier like this man?

Danger, they warned her.

Patience, she whispered. Sure that the light in him would be greater than the darkness.

Constantly surrounded by the danger of him she felt protected when on his knees he gifted her three bullets.

Bullets he was willing to take for her.

She took at the look at the crimes and the manipulation but jumped anyway.

And she fell.

Seeing her devotion to him. Pushing past her limits. He was overjoyed. Owning her as he had countless others.

His carefully crafted controlling schemes were beginning to engulf her so without thinking he pulled the trigger.

When the bullet had no effect on her he realized it was over.

He stopped calling.

She wept, for she had lost another boy with a broken halo and with him a little piece of her soul. Sprinting away as his feet burn the ground, the beautiful man left.

Three bullets are the only thing that remain to remember him by.