deadtwinz

Johan ran like hell after pulling the trigger—heart pounding, lungs burning, blood on his hoodie. But in the end, the streets ain’t got mercy. He didn’t fold when the sirens hit, but he knew it was over when that cruiser came flying ‘round the corner. No words, no resistance—just dropped to the ground and let fate cuff him. That day changed everything. After spending two long years behind bars, Johan Rodriguez steps back into the world with nothing but a duffle and a bitter taste of the system still in his mouth. The light burns his eyes, not because it’s bright—but because it’s real. Every second outside feels like freedom he ain’t used to anymore. And this time, he ain't planning on giving it back. The hood ain’t changed much—but Johan did. Walking past the same liquor store, same corners, same faces—but everything feel different. He made a quiet visit to someone who never got the chance to make it out. A worn photo, a few words, and a silence heavy enough to feel. Some people come home. Some stay buried. But Johan remembers them all. Johan Rodriguez .. Wanna Be!!

Johan Rodriguez — “The One Who Made It Out” Age: 19 Status: Still standing Johan Rodriguez wasn’t born into peace. He was born into survival. Raised on the cracked sidewalks of Grove Street, Johan grew up in a world where sirens were louder than lullabies, and broken glass on the curb was just part of the scenery. He didn’t get handed a childhood he got handed reality. No father figure. No real guidance. Just his mother and the streets. She worked doubles just to keep the lights on, too tired to notice when the city started raising her son for her. By the time Johan was a teen, he had already learned the rules — keep your head down, don’t talk too much, and move like you got something to lose. But even silence ain’t always safe. At 13, Johan wasn’t playing anymore. He was watching, learning, memorizing every mistake the older heads made. He didn’t want stripes. He didn’t want status. He just wanted to make it past eighteen. Life in East LS was fast. Unforgiving. Cold. He didn’t chase trouble, but it always seemed to find him. He lost people. He made choices. He buried names he still hears in his head. And each time it happened, he didn’t get weaker. He got quieter. Colder. Smarter. Now at nineteen, Johan walks different. Not because he’s proud. But because he knows what it costs to still be alive. He ain’t a product of luck — he’s a product of pressure. Molded by silence. Hardened by loss. And no matter what this city throws at him next… He’s ready. Because he’s been ready