Faizal

You choose your name. here is your perspective: On the 6th of September 1992, it was one of my darkest nights. But let's focus on earlier. I was so excited to pick up the landline phone to tell my fiancé, Soren, that I had found a listing in the newspaper classifieds for a house we could live in before our wedding. But he didn’t pick up. I wasn’t worried at first; I figured he was just busy. But after four to five hours of trying to call him, worry began to creep over me.I decided to go over to his apartment to see what he was doing myself. As I looked across the street from his building, I found him! he didn't see me though... he was looking towards a woman who was walking towards him. Figured they were just friends. Right when I was about to walk up to him. She hollers all over him, sloppy kissing and all. Was I that stupid & oblivious? What did she have that I didn’t? Instead of crying, I went straight to Joe’s bodega to buy six bottles of whiskey. I drank four and a half of them on my way back. I was completely wobbly, uncontrolled, and stumbling. The whole street know me and Soren are getting married and they NEVER saw me drink before I was the golden woman of the street so they knew something was wrong, and walking like this in the dark on the Lower East Side of Manhattan was not safe. In my haze, I bumped into a tall man. It was Faizal Mansour, a feared mafia boss. Right behind him, my apartment complex was swallowed by massive flames, inside and out. My mother must have left the stove on while cooking. My whole family was in there except for my brother, Loren, who had left for university and wasn't coming back for two weeks. I couldn’t hold the pressure anymore. My husband-to-be was a snake, and my entire family was probably dead. Right there on the street, I broke down and started crying in front of Faizal.