Buried Deep ✔️

Chapter Eleven [World War III]

Come on, Spencer. Get up. I pushed off the ground and forced myself to stand. My body fought against me. My body shook as I braced my back against the wall of the alley.

There was a hollowness inside my chest. My heart had been ripped out. I'd hurt the only person who still believed there was good inside me. I laid my head back against the wall and closed my eyes. I inhaled the cool air before blowing it back out in a steady rhythm.

My hand reached for my gun. The metal was smooth against my palm. I slipped it out of my pocket and listened to the clicking sound as the bullets slid into the chamber. Without fear, I put the barrel to my temple.

I could just end it now. All it would take is the simple pull of a trigger. The same sinister thoughts had crept into my mind two years ago as I sat in my bathroom floor. I was sixteen years old and tired of the bullying at school.

"Why are you so skinny? Does your mom not feed you? Oh wait, you don't have a mother. She left you," he yelled as the kids around us burst into laughter.

"Shut up," I yelled back. The tears stung in my eyes.

"Why have you stopped coming to practices?" coach Hughes asked.

"I don't know, coach," I said.

But I did know. The reason I never showed up to practice was because my dad was always passed out on the couch with a bottle in his hands. His son's basketball team wasn't even on his mind. The alcohol that quenched his thirst was his only priority.

Those moments were the ones that lead me to that day in the bathroom with that cocktail of pills. If I couldn't feel anything, it could never hurt me.

My finger flickered toward the trigger. It brushed against it. I played with death again. Then I remembered the brotherhood.

After that day in the bathroom, Cayden found me wandering the alley. He gave me a reason to live. He also gave me a group of guys I could call my brothers.

Two of those brothers were counting on me. They were relying on me to complete the task we were assigned. I told Damen I was going through with the mission. I couldn't go back on that promise. My eyes opened. There was a sliver of sky visible between two towering buildings. I lowered the gun from my head. The few stars twinkled.

I flicked the safety on the pistol and slipped it into the pocket of my jacket. I pushed away from the wall and started my trek down the alley.

After a long walk, I made it to the gang's apartment. Holiday leaned against the wall of the alley. His eyes were closed. He had tied the piece of t-shirt around his arm. Damen stood in the shadows on the other side of the alley. The blade of his knife shimmered as he flicked it open.

I strolled over and touched Holiday's shoulder. "Hey, man. You good?"

Holiday's eyes flashed open. "Yeah, fam. I'm fine. Did you take care of business?"

I glanced away from him and stared down the alley.

"Spence," he said.

I looked back at him and cleared my throat. "Yes, I did."

It was quiet for a moment. I glanced over my shoulder at Damen.

"Well, you seem more on edge now than you did when you left," Holiday said, breaking the silence.

My eyes roamed back to his face. "Do I?" His face was barely visible through the darkness.

He let out a frustrated breath and grabbed my shoulder. "What's bothering you?"