Redemption

Chapter 15

I want to stay away from all of them.

Isn't it funny though how in the times you want something the most, you'll get it the least?

Night falls and I head out with some of the guys I'm usually with. I'm always out with someone to avoid going to that cold place called my parent's house. Tonight was just supposed to be chill, maybe hit up a party and leave early to go for a drive, that's what I had in mind. We were actually on our way to a party when the guys wanted to stop by at a gas station and get something, so I stayed behind as they all went inside.

I hadn't expected Uncle Joe to appear.

My heart turns in my chest with the broken expression on his face, but that soon turns to anger instead. They're all just judging me.

I hate that.

I exhale, smoke from the cigarette in my hand swirling up and around. I stare at Uncle Joe, my gaze hard as he looks back at me before approaching.

It's been three months since we last saw one another. Three months since I saw anyone else besides Rose. A part of me misses them, that's undeniable, but the other part thinks that it's better this way. Before things went down south to the point I thought it would be best to stop visiting, we were all just hanging on by a thread anyways. None of us said it, but we knew.

They all took it upon themselves to "advise" me, at least that's what they called it. I call it judgement and a shit load of lectures.

They didn't like me drinking. Didn't like me smoking, didn't like the crowd I was hanging out with or how late I was out at night. Well it's my life and I can do whatever the hell I want.

"Austin," he says once he finally reaches me. For a moment, my heart softens with the emotion in his eyes. It's love...but there's that sadness to. Sadness for what? Why are they like this?

"Yes?" I answer rudely.

"You're out here all alone," and there we go.

"What do you want, Uncle Joe? I don't want to play your games tonight." He flinches back and I feel that self-loathing rearing its head again. Before I left for the academy, I asked Uncle Joe if I could call him something else. He meant so much to me and I wanted to call him something that reflected that. So I asked him if I could call him Pops.

But gone are those days.

"Austin," he murmurs and I just snort, turning my head away, unable to look at him any longer. I still love him though.

"Whatever," I manage to say, acting indifferent.

I take another puff of my cigarette and he continues to stare at me as if not knowing what to say. I see the door of the gas station store open and the guys come back out. I was hoping Uncle Joe would get going before they came back.

"Yo Austin-you get in trouble or something?" Oh no.

"Yeah man, what's with the cop? Is he bothering you or some shit?"

I watch as the six guys come out of the gas station's store and form a half circle around the car I sit on. They look at Uncle Joe like hungry sharks wanting to devour their prey. And I guess to them he is their prey-they hate cops, good or bad.

"No, he was just going actually," I have to handle this well. Hopefully Uncle Joe will get the memo before this goes any further-

"Hey, wait, isn't that the Joe guy?" I freeze at the words.

"The kiss-ass everyone around here loves?" No.

"Yeah, that's him. Bitch-ass, Joe." My mind goes back to the fight I got into in eighth grade. It's like things are about to repeat themselves.

"I'm not here to do anything. Like Austin said, I'm just going." Yes, please do. Uncle Joe is impossibly sweet, even in a time like this. My heart dips as I recall what was said about him back then.

"You know Austin or something?" Sweet or not though, his words are ignored as if they don't matter.

"Doesn't he seem to know everyone? He kisses ass so everyone can like him. It's that shit cops do." I feel my blood boil, but I try to keep my head on my shoulders. These guys aren't the most harmless people and I don't want them getting riled up and that putting Uncle Joe in an awful situation. The thought makes me re-evaluate for a moment why I'm with them.

"Shut up you guys, he said he's leaving," I compose myself and only manage to sigh. I put my cigarette out, done with it at this point, and toss it.

"But hold on, didn't his wife die a few years ago? That's the same guy, right?" For a moment, everything stops and it's like time is suspended.

"Right. Y'all think she actually died like that? Cops are fucking power-hungry." But time is only suspended for just a moment. "Maybe she did something he didn't like, and he killed her. He's probably trigger happy."

Red. That's all I see.

I feel my body move, but I don't really process it.

I see the color red it as it speckles on my hand as my fists beat into the guy's face before he has the sense to cover it with his arms. So I aim for other parts of his body instead, feeling myself fill up with rage.

This was the one thing we kept a secret from Pops years ago-the things people are saying behind his back. It's the one thing I never wanted him to know, regardless of how I feel about him now. And now here is Anthony running off at the mouth, not even caring about the ramifications of his words. None of them care.

"Stop-stop!" He cries and I'm tempted to continue, but Pops taught me to never use my strength to bully others, even if they're fucking lowlifes.

"What the fuck did I say?" I shout, stopping as he cowers below me. "I told you he was fucking leaving. Yet you decided to run your damn mouth." He holds up a hand, looking pitiful now that's he's in this position. For all his talk, he can't even fucking square up.

"Yo, Austin, what the hell man? Chill, it's fine," The words cause me to pause and vivid images of pummeling the guy who just spoke goes through my mind. My head turns slowly to look at him and I see hesitation on his face.

"Say that to my face, Torres, and I'll fuck you up like the little bitch you are." My threat is clear and he knows I'll follow through with it. They all do.

I've become notorious ever since I came back. It's not just because of the activities I engage in, but it's also how some say I'm merely a shell of a man, with no feelings or emotions. It's not true, but people think it is. So I let them believe that. The scary thing about those who have no emotions is that there aren't many lines they would draw, and not many lines they wouldn't cross. It's almost like anything goes, and they live with no regrets. You don't want to fight someone like that.

My eyes go back to Anthony below me and he cowers.

It's also helped that I've made a name for myself with fighting.

"If y'all fuck with him, I'll come after each and every one of you. Alright?" They all nod. I know that doesn't mean they respect Pops now-of course they don't, but they'll be hesitant to do anything.

"It's time for you to get going," I say, turning to Pops. I'm surprised by the expression on his face, and something stirs in my chest. It's not all the bad feelings I normally feel now. It's something good.

"You're always welcome home," My eyes sting at his words but I say nothing to it.

"Get going, Pops," the title slips out unconsciously, but I don't take it back. No matter what happens between us, he deserves that name.

"Alright," he leaves and I turn back to my situation at hand. I might not change everything I'm doing, but I'll at least change this.

I look at the guys, knowing what I have to do. It's time to cut ties with them.