Chapter 18
My teeth clench at the sight of my so-called brother and Brutus hanging outside the double doors, cracking their knuckles and cackling like dickheads.
“Fucking high school bullies,” I grumble under my breath to no one in particular. “Grow the fuck up.”
That’s impossible for them. Especially Mack. He’s perpetually twelve-years-old with no sign that he'll mature any time soon.
Someone needs to knock both of them on their asses to teach them a lesson. Punch a tooth loose. Break their bones. Which seems impossible with how massive Brutus has become over the summer. Obviously, those shit heads have been training him for Franco.
He'll make a great enforcer for their cause one day. I can see it now, having to take him out whenever our plans come to fruition. They’re grooming him for the future.
Fuck.
The future. It’s full of possibilities and unknowns. I hate not knowing what to expect or who I need to protect.
Mack has always lived a cushy life. The youngest. The favorite. I was the responsible one. The one forced to pick up the slack around the house when he went to play with his friends.
And I let him. Why should he have to be responsible like me? I had it covered for the both of us.
At least one of us had a real childhood.
And then the little bastard betrayed me. His brother. The one who put food on the table and clothes on his back.
“Why the fuck is social services talking to Mom?” I hiss, slamming through our bedroom door and shutting it behind me.
My heart pounds rapidly at the implications. Do I want a better home with a parent who is present? Yes. But Mack needs me to take care of him. I’m his older brother. The provider of this family.
Mack momentarily stops packing a duffel bag and squares his shoulders. Almost with pride in his eyes.
“They’re taking me.”
My breath nearly leaves my lungs. “T-taking us?”
“Not us. Me.” He goes back to packing like his words weren’t an ice pick to the heart. So cold and calculating.
“J-just you?” I breathe, furrowing my brows. “B-but what about me?”
“Yeah. Me.” He shrugs nonchalantly like I don’t matter. Like I didn’t sacrifice everything to give us a good life. I might be young and stupid, but I know how to survive.
Always survive.
“Why you?” I growl, balling my fists.
It doesn’t make sense. There are two neglected kids in this mold-infested house.
Hello! I’m here, too. I deserve better than a mom who wants to smoke her money away and forgets to get food for us.
I’m the one in line at the food bank and using our assistance to get food at the grocery store.
Not her. All she feeds us are insults and cigarette burns.
“I dunno, man. I was with Hux and telling Franco about this.” He waves a hand at the room with several holes in the wall from our fights.
Our mattresses rest on the floors, and clothes barely hang in the closet. The scent of cigarettes and body odor hangs like a black cloud throughout our home. It’s not much. There’s never peace here. But it’s a roof over our head—protection from the weather.
And the one perk we had—we had each other.
Now? I’ll be on my own, unless they take me, too. My mom wouldn’t survive a day without someone cooking for her. Since her last boyfriend took off, taking all her savings with him, she hasn’t been able to function.
Mack doesn’t pause once to think about what he’s done or who this affects. He never does. His impulses get the better of him.
“So, you’re leaving me here to take care of her?” I swallow every emotion bubbling inside me. My fingers ball into fists. It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve gotten into a full-on brawl.
And it won’t be the last.
Mack’s brows crease. “You could always come with me. He’s got plenty of room. It’s a mansion, man! With so much food, they could feed an army. No more scrambling until the first of the month. Mom doesn’t need us.”
That’s a lie. Mom always needs us. Even though it should be the opposite, we should rely on her to raise us like when we were little kids. She was healthy then. Happy, even.
Until one day she wasn’t. She got a new boyfriend who knocked her around, and then he introduced her to drugs. Those were the days Mack and I hid in our room with the doors locked until they went to bed. He was in my arms, crying while I consoled him.
I was his parent, despite only being eleven months older than him.
That day I watched my only companion walk out the front door with social services, leaving me behind to care for our mother as she descended further and further into drug and alcohol addictions.
And the kicker? I still care for her even when she doesn’t remember my name or what day it is. Even when she looks in the mirror and doesn’t remember the woman staring back at her, as Dementia eats away at her brain, stealing everything she once knew.
I still overextend myself to make her life better.
“It’s Dementia,” Dr. Hudson says, tightening his lips.
“Dementia?” I whisper in horror, looking at my mom as she blinks rapidly at the doctor. I don’t tell him about the drugs she’s consumed over the years. Or how she’s started drinking herself to death.
My ears ring. “Is that why she’s having trouble remembering?” I ask, scrunching my brows. “Is that why she’s been so confused?”
She’s been forgetting her car keys. Asking me if I wanted dinner repeatedly. I thought it was the drugs. But Ronnie left her high and dry. She’s been on a downward spiral, and I couldn’t help her. Until she forgot to get dressed and walked out the door.
Now, we’re here. The cops warned me she needed medical assistance.
“Unfortunately, yes. And it’s only going to get worse.” He offers me a slight smile. “It’s a lot to take in. There are medications that can help. And we have resources for care.”
Within a year of her diagnosis, she was in a care facility. I was working my ass off on jobs to save money, and now, everything I earn goes to her care, picking up the slack of what the state doesn’t cover, which leaves very little in my bank account at the end of the day.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, keeping my eyes on my brother and his stupid friend.
They lean in like girls whispering secrets to each other. No doubt waiting for their newest victim to torture a little bit more. Considering I ended their fun before class started.
Oh, what a joy it is to have to see Mack twice a week, so early in the morning, in a confined space.
I guess that’s why I’m loitering in the empty hall, leaning against the wall with an unlit cigarette between my lips and the hint of nicotine on my tongue—the poison I refuse to ever put in myself again.
I’ve seen what foreign substances in a body can do. Deteriorate it. Skin and bones. Crying for a fix. And the memory loss it brings. I once was addicted to the thing loosely hanging from my lips, aching to inhale the smoke and fill my lungs with the poison.
A buzz in my pocket pulls me into the present, and I sigh.
Malic
Heard baby bro is going to put his fists into the ring and finally face you. So unpussy like of him. *Devil emoji*
An emoji? My face twists when I read it again. That’s new for him. And odd. But who am I kidding? Malic is weird as fuck sometimes. I’m used to it by now. We’ve been friends for over five years, meeting at a time when I needed someone the most.
Wilder
And how do you know that?
The showdown literally happened forty minutes ago.
Malic
That’s the thing about me. I know lots of things about lots of things.
Wilder
How very specific of you…
Malic
Also, it was on the SlamApp. *Giggle emoji* Pictures and all!
Wilder
Of course it is…
Fucking SlamApp. Whatever asshole created that wanted chaos across this damn campus. Sure, it helps us get the word out on fights and who we want to call out. It’s entertainment.
But nothing here is a true secret. Spies are everywhere, eager to enhance the bad blood between everyone and continue the feuds.
Wilder
Did you suddenly find the emojis?
Malic
You could say a songbird told me all about them… *Bird emoji* *Knife emoji* *Blood emoji*
I tongue the end of my cigarette and sigh.
Malic
You were asleep, Old Chap. I couldn’t disturb you when duty called. He was singing so loud too. *Grinning emoji* *Hehe emoji*
You really missed out. *Shrug emoji*
Wilder
Wake me next time you run off to torture someone…
Or you might get yourself killed.
Malic
Yes, Keeper! *Salute emoji*
I lean against the wall with a sigh, tucking my cell phone into my pocket. My next step is putting a tracker under Malic’s skin so he stops sneaking out and torturing people without me knowing.
I’m sure whoever he put in his chair deserved it. Hell, I’m sure Boss Man called him specifically to take care of the problem.
But I’m his fucking keeper. His conscience. The one who keeps him in line when he wants to lash out and can’t contain his feelings. And he was let loose without my knowledge.
Fuck.
I run a hand over my near-bald head, deep in thought. I’ll have to be more vigilant and keep an eye on him. Every step of the way. More than I already do. But I can only be in so many places at once. Like being here in class. Malic has his own shit to do, and I have mine.
Maybe I should put him on a damn leash. It’s not like he’s actually here to learn, unlike me. If I can get my college education and earn my degree, maybe I can make more money for my mom’s care.
But Boss Man will always know where I am.
Fuck.
I never wanted this for my fucking life. It’s the entire reason I stayed behind after Mack took off to work for Franco. The Mob brings nothing but bullshit to your doorstep.
But there was a time in my life when I had no choice but to find alternative ways to make money.
And then, I met Malic.
Meeting him in the alleyway between buildings as I beat my fist against the wall to feel the ache of my desperation was fate.
“You should come with me,” he says, tilting his head as I shake out my hand, ignoring the blood pouring from my knuckles.