by R. J. Lewis
Sixteen
Ryker
I was drunk.
Stumblin’ down the street, sight hazy, footsteps slow.
Fucking fantastic night, though.
Truly epic.
Cindy was hot as hell. Bending over the way she did for me. Fuck, that was good. Pure submission. Chose me over Heath, and the look on his face… Heh. That was better than the pleasure I felt when I fucked her deep.
I loved girls. While Heath may have been better looking than me, he was a one woman kind of guy. If he was screwing someone, he was doing it for a good while before he was over it and moving on to someone else.
Not me.
I was fucking them left, right and centre.
I was a good looking guy. Chicks wanted me. I was the attainable Lawson brother. The one that they lined up for, waiting for their go. And these were beautiful girls. Not plain Janes who didn’t glance at the mirror right before they stepped out. I’m talkin’ hot chickies, in skin tight jeans and breasts perched high, hair flowing down their back, plump lips glossy red, and eyes glistening with want.
I used them. I loved the thrill of it. Loved feeling like I was superior to my brother. Growing up with him had felt like one giant competition. Heath always seemed to be better than me at everything.
Sports? He scored all the goals.
Looks? He had the genetics of a quarterback, meanwhile I had the body of a tennis player. No amount of lifting weights could cut me closer to his physique, and I knew it was because we had different fathers.
School? Bastard had dyslexia and still got better grades than me.
Family? He was Mom’s favourite. Our cousins preferred his company to mine. Everyone looked up to him even though he hadn’t accomplished jack shit.
Strength? He was the fighter. I was the one on the side, watching him knock out guy after guy knowing I could never be on the receiving end of that fist and have a chance.
But girls? He didn’t know how to be in a relationship. He couldn’t commit. And while I wasn’t interested in relationships, I knew what a girl wanted. I knew how to shower them with affection, make them feel like they were wanted. I didn’t discard them, or put a line in the sand that said, “We’re just fuck buddies. We’re not in a relationship. We’re not even friends.”
So I worked with what I got. With what I seemed to excel at. And it worked tonight.
I suspected that was why Heath decided to be a dick, taking off without even asking if I had a goddamn lift home. Left me to walk the streets in the middle of the night on my own. At least… I didn’t think anyone was out here.
I stopped and looked around, just to make sure. I didn’t like the fucking dark. Another thing Heath was responsible for. Scarin’ me all those years as a kid. I learned you never knew what was lurking in the shadows.
I pulled out my pocketknife. Hedley was no place to be at night. Unless you were a guy and in a group, you better be watching your back every step of the way.
But whatever, man. I wasn’t some pussy. At seventeen years old I felt like a grown man. Life hadn’t been easy. Especially when Mom died six months ago. In a blink of an eye she was there one second and then gone the next.
Fuck you, cancer.
We were making it by. One pay check at a time, anyway. I was forced to grow up faster. Forced to take on responsibilities a kid shouldn’t have to. As a result, I was angry and the tension between that knob of a brother and me was always high. Just because Mom was dead, that didn’t mean he could tell me what to do. I was out working like him. I was earning some money to help us make it by. At the end of the day I was entitled to live however the fuck I wanted to.
“Help.”
I stopped. I swore I heard something. I looked around again, at the dark buildings along this street.
“Please.”
I spun around, and instantly my stomach churned at the movement. After a night of heavy drinking, any sudden movements were going to be the death of me. Bile rose up my throat. I bent over and dry heaved, taking small steps forward until my head hit the brick wall of a dark shop. I breathed in and out for a good while, fighting the sudden cold sweat that broke.
Why the fuck did I drink? I asked myself.
“Help,” I heard again.
God, was I hearing shit?
I stood up straight and kept a hand against the wall. I took small steps, slowly making my way closer to where it was coming from. It was a male voice, and it sounded weak and deep. Maybe intoxicated? I’d just leave him if he was. I had to take care of my own drunken ass first.
I turned into an alleyway, the smell of garbage coming on strong. I breathed through my mouth as I stared hard into the darkness, waiting for the man to come into view. With every step, I squinted harder, until I could recognize the outline of a person. He was a big guy, I could tell, and I stopped halfway to him and glanced around cautiously.
This could be a setup. Maybe a way to get to my wallet. Not that the fuckers would find much save for a five dollar bill and a fake ID.
“What’s the matter with you?” I found myself asking, turning my attention back to the man. His back was against the wall, his legs spread out on the ground.
“H-hurt,” he stammered out, shaking his head from side to side.
“Where?” I pressed.
“Everywhere. N-neck mostly.”
“What happened? Why are you here?”
He coughed weakly before whispering, “T-they dumped me here for a little while. They could be coming back any second. Get me out. P-please, get me out.”
Dumped him? I took a step closer, shaking my head to get some clarity in. “Who dumped you? Who is coming back?”
“V-very bad men.”
Even drunk, my instincts were clear. I needed to turn back and get out of here. Clear the fuck away from this man before he dragged me down into some shit I didn’t need to be in. I’d done well keeping away from the bad this town was infested with. Last thing I needed to happen was get involved in some hit – because let’s be fucking clear here, this was obviously one. This man had taken a beating, and they were coming back for more.
I took a step back and began to shake my head at him. My mouth opened to refuse his help when the loud sound of multiple footsteps emerged from behind me. Voices littered the air, and before I even managed to turn halfway, laughter sounded out. The words, “The fucker brought back up,” were heard.
“No –” I began to say, but it was too late. A hand gripped the side of my head. I let out a sharp breath, stunned with fear as he smashed my head against the wall.
All went black.
*
I stirred, feeling the worst pain in humankind in my skull. I was sitting upright on something hard. My back felt stiff, my neck ached, and my arms… Something was fucking wrong with my arms!
I opened my eyes to darkness. Something was covering them, and by reflex I tried to remove the cloth. The feeling of claustrophobia immediately hit when I found I couldn’t move my hands. My wrists were tied, tugging my arms so far back behind the horrible chair I was sitting on. I couldn’t even kick. My feet were just as tightly forced in place against the legs of the chair. Freaked out, I tried thrashing around. Maybe I could break apart the chair. It groaned and moved along the hard ground. It took me no time before I was sweating like a pig. My head throbbed and soon I was swimming in dizziness.
What the fuck –
“Don’t tire yourself out, boy,” came a rough voice. “You ain’t going nowhere.”
I froze. Every bit of me was on high alert. Whoever was in the room was uncomfortably close.
“What’s going on?” I demanded, more angry than afraid. “Why the fuck am I here? I’ve done nothing wrong –”
“Don’t be dumb. He called you for backup, didn’t he?”
“Nobody called me for backup. I was walking home from a party! I was drunk, man. I don’t know shit –”
“So then why was your ass in that alleyway?”
�
�Some guy was calling for help. I went to see what the hell was going on.”
He chuckled. “Either you’re the dumbest, unluckiest redneck boy I ever did see, or you’re trying to play me for a fool. Which is it?”
I shook my head as that anger grew by the second. “I’m not dumb or lying. I’m not a boy either.”
“No?”
“No!” I was seeing red now. “Get me the hell out of here!”
The fuckhead chuckled again. Oh, what I would give to have my hands on this bastard! I went hysterical, trying to get out of the chair. Having no concept of where I was or who I was dealing with, I became overheated and panicked. I felt like I was in a tiny box and the walls were slowly closing in on me.
“Calm the hell down. Jesus, you’re making me uncomfortable.”
“Then untie me!”
I heard shuffling sounds. Then footsteps. A hand gripped the cover around my eyes and tore it off. I blinked rapidly as light flooded into my vision, temporarily blinding me. Slowly objects began to form before me as I blinked away the stars.
I was in a cement room. Maybe a cellar. Fear shot through me as a face came into view, staring at me with a wicked smile on his face. The man was bald, had a light greying beard and shiny blue eyes. There was an unforgiving hardness about him, and I knew suddenly everything about my life was about to change. Either I’d die… or I’d fucking pay somehow for going to that injured man in the alleyway.
“What’s wrong?” the man said with a raised brows. “Don’t seem so tough now, huh? You know who I am, boy?”
I barely breathed as I shook my head slightly.
The man leaned over, whispering, “I can be your friend… or I can be your worst fucking nightmare.”
I didn’t reply. I could feel the sweat slide down my cheeks, giving away my anxiety.
“Which one do you want to be?” he asked, walking over to a makeshift table where a long line of knives lay.
Bloody fucking hell.
“Look,” I said, gulping hard, “I haven’t lied to you. I’m just some drunk fuck that stumbled across a man that called for help.”
“You sure about that?”
I shook as I adamantly replied, “Man, I’m a hundred percent sure.”
He picked up a yellow ended Spyder knife and turned back to me. There was a shine in those eyes as he strolled casually over to me, carefully looking at my face as he slowly roamed his fingers up and down the blade. He was trying to fuck me up with fear. And the fucker was doing a damn good job.
“How old are you, kid?” he then asked, pulling up a stool to sit next to me.
“Seventeen.”
“Seventeen,” he repeated, nodding his head thoughtfully. “Still a fucking baby, hey? What’re you doing walkin’ the streets, drunk off your ass, answerin’ random men in alleyways?”
“My brother left me behind. Had no taxi money to make it home. Decided to just walk it when I heard him.”
“Right.”
I couldn’t tell if he believed me or not. He was impossible to read.
“You live around that area I found you in?” he wondered.
“A few blocks away,” I told him.
“Huh. And that man you saw… Did you recognize him?”
I tried to remember the face in the alleyway. “It was too dark.”
“What did he say to you exactly?”
“That men hurt him, and that they were comin’ back for him.”
He was quiet for a few moments, staring down at the blade now. I watched as he casually cleaned the dirt from beneath his fingernails, as though this was just another normal event in his day. I wondered if he would think twice about me if he decided to kill me. Or was I just another number to him? Fuck, I needed to think fast.
“Do you want to know what’s going to happen to him?” the man continued, keeping his eyes drawn on the knife. “He owed me a lot of money. Decided that he wasn’t going to pay according to the timeline I gave him. He’s going to be swinging off a tree branch come mornin’ with a fake fucking suicide note written by him.”
Jesus Christ. Why was he telling me this?
“His name was Walter Wallace. Know him?”
The name was familiar. I knew the family, I realized. Hell, I’d played with the daughter when I was a kid.
I nodded slowly. “Don’t know him personally, but I know about him.”
“I reckon that man’s got that money kickin’ around somewhere. I’ll probably be tearing through his house. I might even start plucking off that fuckin’ wife of his too.”
I shut my eyes. Fuck, if this was a nightmare, would someone just wake me up already?!
“Well, boy, now that you know about him, you better start pleading your case to me, otherwise they’re going to find you swinging off a branch too.”
My eyes whipped open. “Pleading my case? I didn’t do anything!”
He shrugged and finally locked his cold eyes to mine. “Yeah, but now I told you about the man, told you what I’ll do his wife and why. I can’t let you walk out into the world knowing you’ve got that kind of information against me.”
What in the holy fuck? He told me the “information”, and now he was using it against me? My head spun. My headache worsened as I tried to think my way through this. Did this man just enjoy trapping people? Was he setting me up?
It was a sick game.
“What do you want me to do?” I asked, knowing full well I sounded desperate.
“Well, depends. What’re you willing to do for me?”
I didn’t know. He could see that from my silence.
He sighed heavily, shaking his head in disappointment. “You’re proving yourself useless to me. Thought I saw some fire in you, waking up and swearing your little heart out. Thought I could use a young man. Guess not.”
He stood up, and my body jolted with panic.
Think.
Think!
THINK!
“I’ll find you that money,” I let out in a rush, fighting the tremble in my voice. “That man had a daughter. I can – I can get it to you through her. She won’t suspect it. N-none of them will.”
He looked down at me with furrowed brows. “Why would I do that?”
“Because a suicidal father will seem real suspicious if something bad happened to the mother too.”
He stared at me hard, and I couldn’t for the life of me read his emotion. The seconds ticked by at an excruciatingly slow pace… until finally, his lips curved up and he smiled widely with a crazed look in his eyes.
“Boy, I like you.”
I sagged in the chair with relief.
“I’m Boss,” he then said, leaning over to look me in the eye, “and you’ll learn very fast that you’ll never want to fuck me over. Because nobody ever walks away.”
*
Prison is like a giant pause in your life.
You know time is passing, but you don’t feel it. It’s not the isolation from the world that kills you. It’s the repetition. You wake up with no purpose and go to bed dying a little more on the inside. Your heart is nothing more than a reminder that you’re still alive, but it isn’t your most vital organ. It’s not what gives you purpose. It doesn’t tell you how to make it day after day in a place filled with violent criminals.
No, it’s the brain that keeps you going. The brain tells you what to do. It tells you to keep your fucking head down and never start trouble. To just exist.
Exist.
I was existing. But like a fucking plant in need of water, I was wilting. I needed her. I needed that water. I needed her to put some breath into me again, to give me hope that there was something good on the other side.
Which is fucked up. Because having hope in a place like this was a dangerous thing. It made the fall that much higher – that much harder.
Most days I cursed her. She abandoned me, but for the life of me I couldn’t find it in me to hate her. I knew in some fucked up way this was karma. I didn’t deserve her, but I’ll be damn
ed if she thought being away from me meant we were done.
She was mine.
I never sought to fall in love with her. It just happened. But I knew the exact second it started to happen, and those memories haunted me every night I was alone in my cell.
“Get up, Lawson,” came a voice, jolting me awake. “Got a visitor, ya prick.”
I got up and on came the chains. “Fucked up bastard,” the fat guard, Jacko, muttered as he went, abusing me because I took it with my mouth shut. “Sad looking shit, aren’t you?” Yeah, he could talk. I’d let him. He didn’t know what I was capable of, but the more he went on, the more I reserved a spot for him in the future where he’d see it. He’d know exactly who he was fucking with.
He took me down to the visiting wing.
I hoped it wasn’t Matt again. The shit that man had fed me the last time he was here was downright mental. Talking about how Heath wanted Allie – my Allie!
I thought about our conversation on my way.
“She’s not waiting for you,” he’d blurted out, avoiding my eyes as he shrugged in defeat. “There is absolutely no mention of you to anyone. She spends all her time going to school and being at the apartment with Heath. I don’t… What the fuck do you want me to say, Ryker? She’s not waiting for you, man.”
I didn’t let those words settle. I treated them as though it was wind; a slight whip in the face and it was gone.
“It’s Heath, man,” he continued, finally looking me in the eyes while he tapped his fingers nervously on the table. “He’s been spending a lot of time with her, Ryker.”
I rubbed my face in exasperation. The fuck did it matter? “I’d rather she spend time with my brother than any other man in that piece of shit, rat nest of a fucking town, Matt. I told him to look out for her –”
“If you saw the way he looked out for her, Ryker, you’d be pissed the hell off, too.”
I didn’t respond for a few seconds. I searched his face. Was he high? The man was getting it wrong. I knew what he was trying to imply, but that shit made no sense to me. Heath promised he was going to be there for her. I trusted him to stick to his word, and by the sounds of it, he was. He had a nice, hot little thing on the side, and Allie was far below his league. He’d never looked at her, never cared when she was around. This was harmless, and he was probably annoyed as fuck I’d left him to do this shit.
