You're sitting on the couch, playing video games and your dad walks in with McDonald's. "Hey hijo" he says softly as he sets some down. "Scoot" he nudges you slightly. You move to the side. He sits and you rest against him.

"Heard you hit someone at school. Got yourself suspended hijo" he says. "What's up with that?"

You bite your lip. "Um, he um.." you pause. "He tried to.."

"Hijo, did you have a reason?" He asks. You nod. "That's all I need to know." He kisses your head. "Now eat up, and then go take a shower."

He pats your thigh and grabs his phone. You glance at the texts. It's to someone named sicario (hitman)

You continue to play your game.

You're 11 years old, you're Mexican. You loved there until you were 6 years old. You speak Spanglish most of the time. Same with your dad. You're an only child from what you know, and you're quiet and you have a bunch of mental health issues, but your dad's supportive. Your name is Leo.

But for weeks now, you know you're dads hiding something big. And you found a gun the other day.