The Demon Boys' Rough Diamond

6. Chapter 1

Present Day

Really this is getting old. The smell of piss and stale cigarettes has my nose wrinkling.

Gross. I bet old man Albert passed out again, at least that’s what it smells like.

Walking my little sister, Lizzy, down the creaky stairs of our apartment building, the sound of sirens blaring and cars honking, comes through the front corridor.

Old torn wallpaper peeling from the yellow, smoke infused paint, our feet scraping along the burgundy, mold infested carpet.

This is home. This is all we’ve ever known.

We have been on our own for the last couple of years.

Honestly, it’s better this way. I can’t let them find us!

Our building sits in shambles with graffiti marking up every inch of the exterior.

This side of town, the South side, is riddled with gangs.

I mean, the North side is also, but the difference is, the gang activity is engrained into everything down on this side.

It’s more a way of life, the ways of the community.

Either you form a gang, join one, or pray to the gods that you survive without any protection.

“Keep your head low, and don't look at anyone,” I whisper into my little sister's ear as I walk her to the bus stop. “Lookin’ good, pretty mama,” a man comments, he looks at me, licking his lips. Gross, why the fuck are men so disgusting? I ignore him. There’s one thing I learned a long time ago; just leave things alone and don’t get involved, unless you want to deal with the consequences.

I don’t have the time or energy for that.

As the bus pulls up, I fish for the change that I threw into my pocket earlier.

“Go ahead and grab a seat,” I tell Lizzy.

Her head whips around to look at me with those giant blue eyes.

She has long blonde curly locks, completely different from my straight raven black hair.

Poor Lizzy, I want to give her the best life possible, but how am I ever going to be able to do that, when I can barely survive on my own?

We were born into this life, meant to fail.

“Keep going.” I gently nudge my sister, stopping to look at the bus driver.

I deposit our change and thank the man. Looking around, all I see is sadness.

Everyone's heads are hung low. The air surrounding us has a musty, moldy smell. Everything around us is tagged, from top to bottom. This is not what I want for my sister, but I have to be grateful for our luck, because at least we don’t live with him anymore.

You see, there is one small thing I forgot to mention; my stepdad, my sister's father. He’s no ordinary man, doesn’t have a normal 9 to 5 job.

He’s not just a regular Joe Shmoe, he’s a ruthless, conceited, narcissist. Oh, and he’s also a crime lord, a gangster.

The funny thing is, my parents always used to tell me to stay away from the Demon Boys, but in reality, they are just the ones who can stand up against him.

Following my sister to the back of the bus, I push her to the window seat and take the seat on the aisle.

Here’s to another fun day of traveling all over on the bus, it takes forever to get anywhere.

But I count this as a blessing too. With my head hung low, I slowly start to fade into a dream, or should I say nightmare, that I’ve lived over and over again.

Evie

10 years ago

“Please, just let me go. Why won’t you let me go?

” My pleas are nothing but a whisper. I look up into his dark soulless eyes, and this is how I know what true evil looks like.

“Shut up.” His hand lashes out at me. “You’re still alive for one reason and one reason only, you know that right?

” His voice sends needles through my body.

Why? Why did my mom have to be with this man, why him?

Evie

Present Day

I hear a loud ping come through the intercom, causing me to jump, and the name of our destination is announced.

“Come on Lizzy, this is our stop.” We’ve been on the run for months now, barely able to stay anywhere for too long.

We know he’s coming, and that he will find us.

It's just a matter of when. I start to push all of my negative thoughts into a little imaginary box.

I wrap it up, lock it, and use saran wrap to keep it sealed.

Sometimes your thoughts are your own worst enemy.

After stepping off the bus, we walked down the cold stone path, crossing over onto High Street, towards the small elementary school.

We are deep within Demon territory now. I chose to hide here, because it’s my stepdad’s rival gang area.

My Demon Boys. I saved Lizzy from a broken home with drug use and prostitution, where hitting women is the norm.

My stepdad instilled ‘women are a possession, women need to be tamed’ into every member's head. Fuck, why can’t I think straight today.

I just keep thinking back to that night, when I could have left without her.

But there was no way I was leaving a little baby with that asshole; over my dead body.

So I stayed. I stayed until I could get us both out.

The sign for South Sac Elementary comes into view.

I walk Lizzy up and sign her in. “Bye Lizzy, I'll see you after school.” Luckily, I had no problems getting her into this school. But I guess when you're on the South side, they really don’t care if you have proper identification, or paperwork. The police don’t even seem to exist around here.

This territory is owned by the Demon Boys, even the police are scared of them.

Fuck to be honest, I’m scared of them, but for different reasons.

My long black hair is pulled up into a high ponytail and it swings against my back.

I walk along the street, really not wanting any attention, so I lower my head and keep to myself.

As I’m walking, I notice mattresses laying on the side of the road, along with discarded couches.

Actually, some of them aren't vacant at the moment, which means I need to pick up speed. Fuck, my little legs need to go faster. The stench of beer, piss, and a burnt chemical smell, starts to become stronger. Over my shoulder, I see an older man with sunken eyes watching me. He looks down, taking the needle in his hand and plunges it into his vein. I can’t help but stare at him, something inside not allowing me to turn away.

His eyes roll into the back of his head.

I try hard not to think about what others do, to keep to myself and live my life.

But seeing this, watching this man put that needle into his arm, bothers me.

Why does it bother me so much? It’s not like I should care.

I think it’s because I remember the past. Turning on Saturday morning cartoons as a kid, waking up all alone, going into the kitchen, praying we had cereal and some milk.

More often than not, we had nothing. I would walk over to the brown, torn up couch and sit there, pulling my knees to my chest, trying to ease the hunger pains.

As a small child, I had no control, or even any idea of what was going on.

My mother, it all leads back to her. I would find her in compromising positions passed out, sometimes with a needle sticking out of her arm, and vomit stuck in her hair.

Who else was there to help her? No one cared, it was just me, and I always did what I was able to.

To this day, that sight is seared into my brain.

I shake my head, freeing myself of past memories.

Sometimes you have to realize you can't control anything in life but yourself, your actions and words.

What everyone else does is on them. The rush of cars and honking fills the air, pulling me further from whatever trance the man and the memories had me in.

I continue to walk; I just need to get to work.

Pulling out my old flip phone, I make a call to Mrs. Suzzie, the babysitter who takes care of Lizzy. “Hey Suzzie, don't forget I’m working all day and night, so I'll need you to get Lizzy.”

“Yes, Evie, I know. Don’t you worry, I would never forget about Lizzy,” she responds.

“Thanks Suzzie,” I say to her, before ending the call.

With that figured out, I pull out a dime bag, as I see one of my regulars and hand it off to them, grabbing the cash and stuffing it in my bra.

I continue to walk down the sidewalk. In this day and age, you gotta do whatever it takes to make money.

I head back around the old brick building, finding Tom, another one of my regulars.

“The usual?” I ask, and he just nods in response.

I hand him the bag, as he slides the money into my pocket.

I walk back around the building, and cross the street.

I have to make a stop to pick up more, since I'm running low.

I check to make sure my pink bedazzled bodyguard is still in my thigh strap.

I hate going over to Gregor’s, but I have no other option.

Do I trust him? About as far as I can throw the man, which I would be lucky if I could even lift him a centimeter.

Gregor is a slimy bastard who only cares about him and his bald self.

He's disgusting, but when you need money as desperately as I do, I guess it doesn't matter.

“Bitch, better have my money,” I start singing, and continue to walk down the sidewalk. I go as fast as possible, with my head low, trying to keep any attention off of me.

Music comes from inside the warehouse I walk up to.

Men litter the outside, strapped with AK’s, knives, glocks; you name it, they got it.

None of that will stop me though, I can take them down with my eyes closed.

I clench my hands, creating crescent moon shapes into my palms. It’s so hard trying to pretend that I’m some wilted flower, when in reality I’m more like the black widow, silently waiting to make her move.