The Damage is Done

Chapter 2: Real Family

Charlotte hung up the phone with a satisfied look on her surgery enhanced face. "He's coming to pick you up," she told me. "He agreed that you could stay with him with no hesitation at all." I sighed, relieved that I wasn't going to be forced into a foster home for the next month until I'm no longer a minor and can move out on my own. 

"That's great," I tell her honestly. "Blaze and I used to be really close, you know, before I was arrested. I'm kind of glad that-" There was a loud bang from a door hitting the wall as the warden, John Grier, aggressively came into the room. That's how he does everything, though. Aggressively.

"Reavers," he barked at Charlotte. "Find someone to take home the punk?" I'm assuming that I'm the punk.  

"Yes, sir," she answered with a proud grin. "Ran out of names in the file, but we got a hold of one of them that must have been forgotten."

Grier narrowed his eyes at the beaming woman, seemingly unimpressed. "I can assure you that I do not make mistakes. If their name wasn't on the list, then they aren't meant to be contacted," he said slowly as if she were a child that didn't understand something incredibly simple. He turned his sneer in my direction and I put my mask up. My mask was a mix of indifference and a bone chilling glare. I had perfected while I did my time, there's not much to do in jail to be honest. "Who did you call?" he asked me.

"Dennis Dyer, sir," Charlotte answered instead. "He'll be here soon to take Elliot home with him."

Grier's head snapped towards the nervous blonde woman. "You're letting her go home with an ex-con? What the fuck are you trying to pull here, Reavers?" he demanded. "Are you trying to have a repeat of God damn Bonnie and Clyde?" His face had gone a frightening shade of purple and I was about to get up and intervene, because it looked like Charlotte was too paralyzed with fear to defend herself, when Blaze came crashing through the glass doors that separated the waiting room from the parking lot.

"Elliot!" he called when he saw me still sitting in the hard plastic chair. "Get your ass over here and give me hug, you little felon," he teased with a large grin covering his chiseled face. My cousin, Blaze, had thick dark hair and muscles that could probably only be acquired by being in a gang and squeezed me painfully with said muscles when I walked over and hugged him.

"Good to see you, too, Blaze," I struggled to say with his arms still wrapped tightly around my torso. He eventually released me and ruffled my long hair. "Of course it's good to see me, El," he scoffed.

"Ahem," Charlotte cleared her throat, attempting to catch Blaze's attention. "We, uh, have some papers for you to sign," she said nervously. I'm not sure why she was so nervous around Blaze, it's not like he was a murderer. Haha.

"Sure thing, gorgeous," he winked at the blushing woman and I smirked as I now understood the nervousness. She totally wanted him. "Just show me the way and I'll-"

"I'd like to have a word with you as well, Dyer," the warden interrupted. "It wouldn't be very smart of me to let a killer run off into the sunset with a known gang member, now would it?"

"Johnny! Long time no see, huh?" Blaze acknowledged. "But I just want to point out that it's like noon and the sun isn't setting for six more hours, so there's no need to worry about our sunset running."

Grier scowled and Blaze patted him affectionately on the back before following Charlotte into the office to sign me into his custody.

~*~

"You're in luck," Blaze told me as we pulled out of the parking lot in his impressive black Camaro. "My spare bedroom has recently become available. You got sprung at a very convenient time, believe it or not."

"What happened to your previous roommate?" I asked cautiously.

"Eh," he shrugged. "Not important. Anyways, we're gonna have to take you shopping."

"Why?"

He glanced at me quickly before answering. "I'm not much into fashion, El, but even I can tell that you aren't going to want to spend the rest of your life in that t-shirt and those pants that I'm pretty sure are for a man." I barked a laugh at his logic. "And we also need to go car shopping because I am not going to be your fucking chauffeur," he added.

"But, Blaze, I've been in jail for five fucking years. I don't have any money and I am not going to let you buy me a new wardrobe and a car," I explained. I really wasn't. I would rather wear clothes from the thrift shop and walk my ass around town than be a burden to the only family kind enough to take me in.

To my surprise, Blaze bursted out laughing. "Yeah," he said sarcastically. "Two ex-cons are going to buy a car. That's a good one, El." He was bent over nearly double trying to control his ridiculous laughter. I suddenly remembered that he was supposed to be driving and had a small heart attack before I realized that we were already parked in front of a small, run-down house in a less than ideal neighborhood.

"So, what, are you going to teach me how to steal a car then?" I snapped, a little irritated that he was so amused by my lack of criminal knowledge.

Blaze's laughter died down to an occasional chuckle and he was finally able to answer me. "Of course I am, kid," he affirmed. "What kind of mentor would I be otherwise?"

"Mentor?" I questioned. This can not be good.

"That's right," he chirped happily. "You're gonna need to earn your keep around here, and I figured the best way for you to do that would be to help me out with my Hellhound duties." He smirked at my stunned expression. "Which is why I'm going to be your mentor. I know you had never done anything illegal before the whole killing your parents thing," he said casually. "So I'm gonna have to teach you."

"Um, okay?" I agreed hesitantly.

"You know," he continued. I'm starting to notice just how much this guy can talk. "Most people work their way up to murder. They might start off with shoplifting, drug dealing, car boosting, something like that. But you? Man, you just went for it, huh?" he babbled.

"Yep, that's me," I mumbled. "Go big or go home, I guess."

That set off his laughter once again and I felt myself chuckling with him. It was nice to laugh.

~*~

Blaze led me into his modest one-story home. When I first stepped foot into the house I was greeted with a surprisingly cozy and well-kept living room to my right and a decent sized kitchen to my left. Straight ahead was a hallway that Blaze told me led to his bedroom and the house's only bathroom. "And that one's yours," he said, pointing at the door that was next to the entertainment center in the sitting room. "It's not much, just a bed and a dresser, but you can do whatever you want with it," he informed me.

I smiled gratefully at him. "Thank you, Blaze," I said sincerely. "Seriously, you're my only family that hasn't turned their back on me."

A sad look crossed his face at my words. "Don't worry, kid, I understand," he said softly. "I'm the black sheep, too, remember?" He wrapped his arm around my shoulder in a side hug and told me to go get settled.

I walked into my new room to 'get settled', though I'm not quite sure what he expected me to do. I didn't own anything. The room was nice enough. It had a queen sized bed in the middle of it with a plain black bedspread on top, which was fine by me, and a small brown dresser. I plopped down on the bed with a sigh of content. It was so much more comfortable than the disgrace of a bed that I had been forced to sleep on for the past five years.

I found myself thinking about Blaze and how strangely kind he was to me. He didn't seem to mind at all that I had been convicted of murder. Hell, he made jokes about it. He must not have liked my parents either, or maybe he wasn't on that plane to Siberia with the rest of the assholes in my family and he actually saw all the news reports about what had happened to me. Either way, I drifted off to sleep with thoughts of how extremely lucky I was to have a cousin like Blaze.  

[Picture of Blaze to the side!...yum]