Tainted Me

Chapter 3: Trouble (present)

PRESENT

Calm the fuck down.

I breathed through my nose, trying not to throw a fucking fit at the sight of my pickup truck. I didn't know who the hell the fucker was, but they vandalized my truck this time. I eyed the big bold red letters sprawled on the hood.

K I L L E R

My hands turned into fists. This shit had been going on since late last year. They were only a few harmless messages at first. But the fucker had the balls to ruin my fucking pickup now.

I closed my eyes and took deep breaths.

Three years ago, I would've blown off my shit and hunted down this stupid motherfucker. But a lot had changed since then, and I couldn't let this get to me. I transferred here to get the past behind me and move on.

And that was exactly what I was gonna fucking do.

I headed to Target using Byron's Audi, he was already gone for the summer. I was packing up my things and getting ready to go back home to Mount Valley but then this shit happened.

The fucking timing.

When I got inside the store, I noticed there weren't many people around. It was a college town. Most of the residents probably already went away.

I grabbed a plastic red basket and went to the hardware section. I scanned the shelves for a glossy black spray paint to cover up the vandalism.

I knew I'd do a shitty job, but I just wanted to cover the words before I took it to a shop and get a whole new paint job.

Fuck, now the stupid shit got me spending money.

Spotting what I was looking for, I grabbed about half a dozen cans and put them in the basket. Maybe it was too much. But I was too pissed to give a damn.

I just wanted to get this fucking day over with.

"Hey, Nine!"

I frowned, turning around.

Only Coach Saxon and my teammates called me by my jersey number. I saw Mack nod to me as he jogged over to where I was. He was just a sophomore, but he was already pretty tall and muscular for a wide receiver.

"Yo, Mack."

"You're still in town," he said, crossing his arms and showing off his tanned biceps. Yeah, as if I'd be intimidated by this bitch.

I looked at him with a bored expression. "No shit. I got held up."

"I see." His eyes locked in on my basket full of black spray paint. He shook his head and turned his attention back to me, before adding, "Listen, I gotta talk to you about something."

I had a feeling I wasn't going to like the shit he was about to say. He was too mouthy for an underclassman, always wanting to prove himself by riding on everyone's case and acting like a goddamn warden.

But hell, I was in a bad mood as it is.

"Shoot," I told him.

He hesitated for a second, like he was gathering his shriveled up balls. Then, resolution filled his expression and he nodded determinedly.

"Next year's your last year in the league," he said, stating the fucking obvious yet again. "I know you'll be starting law school and shit... but I was wondering if you could... not mess up next season."

My eyes narrowed. His words hinted concern, but his undertone told me he was patronizing me. I wanted to laugh in his face but I was too damn pissed. And me reaching my tipping point? Not good for anybody.