El Chico

My name was Ángel Martínez. My mother had insisted on giving me that name before birth, because she said God had sent me to her. But I was no angel, nor had I ever been close to heaven.
They called me Chico, because I was the youngest. I knew my brother would never have wanted me to join them. He tried so hard many times when he was still alive, to get me off the streets, to not end up with them like he had. But a bullet from our enemies killed him, took his life away from all of us with a swoosh. I didn't cry, but they tattoed a tear beneath my left eye. I knew right away I had to get my revenge. I had to kill for my brothers death.
I would remember him everytime I looked into the mirror. They all said I looked like him. I had his light brown eyes, those that smiled with a sad expression. I didn't want to see him whenever I caught my reflection. I wanted to see me, to see Chico - the great warrior.
He had told me many times that Diablo was a bad person, that he really lived up to his name. Diablo had his underlings El Lagrima - with 2Pacs words "Only God Can Judge Me" tattoed across his chest and Asesino - with a scared eye, by his side 24/7. And how intimidated Diablo may have seemed to others, with his tattoed body and harsh face, he had not scared me. I was no cowered and he saw that in me, so he took me in like a big brother should. He nursed me but he also taught me how to be tough, tougher than just any regular street thug. He said, if I followed his examples correctly and didn't back down for anything, I would became the great Chico everyone would fear.
Together the family I now belonged to stole from the poor and killed when they didn't give us what we wanted. We killed with our hand-made guns and machetes. I had once feared death when my brother died but this was almost nothing compared to that. This was another type of death. I decided when their lives would end, always knowing in the back of my mind he wasn't proud of me, not him or God. I knew he had turned his back on me the day I became one of them, the day I let them kick and punch me til I coughed blood.
My given name didn't suit the new me.. but my mother couldn't have known, could she? She should have named me El Feira - the beast.