Hello there! Just a little heads up that there will be expletives in this chapter. I tried to cut them down but also keep what would truly depict Austin's current state of mind. Do enjoy.
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Austin
I hate the way she gives me that look. I've been seeing it for months, ever since I came back from Virginia.
I hate myself for it.
I put the cigarette out at the sight of Rose's look of sadness. Her expressive eyes guilt me into doing so. Or maybe, more so than her eyes is the conviction within me. With all my wrong actions, I feel conviction, but I try to reason it away. Still, it always comes back.
Why can't I just lose myself like the other guys I hang out with? They have no problem getting lost in the alcohol, the money, and more.
I always find myself leaving earlier when I get together with them, not able to swallow much of their lifestyle. It reeks to me.
So why, then? Why do I still get together with men whose lives are going nowhere?
Because it's better than staying at home. It's my getaway from what I have to face. But not just that...I suppose there's another reason why I'm acting up as well. My jaw clenches as I recall it.
Whether I'm the best son anyone could ever want, or whether I'm out causing a mess, my parents don't seem to care either way. How's that even possible? I thought maybe they'd actually bat an eye this time, but no. No.
"Austin," my eyes turn to the young woman standing a few feet away from me. She's within arm's reach, but all the same she's far away. There's a rift between us and I can't blame her.
I told her I'd take care of her. I even told her, at such a young age, that I'd marry her one day. My promises to her sound like they're from a lifetime ago from another person entirely. I don't even feel like I'm the same person who made those promises.
Sometimes I don't mind where I'm at-at least that's what I try to convince myself of, but when I look into the eyes of those I'm hurting, I know that's just a lie. But how do you change things once you're so far gone?
"I was worried about you," Rose continues. We stand in front of the store she caught me at and I shift my weight from one foot to the other, my eyes drifting away from her. I can't find it within me to look at her head on. I did too much damage.
As if I hadn't done harm enough, I showed up to Aunty's house in a drunken stupor about three months ago. We argued, but then she welcomed me inside, taking care of me, which caused me to burst into tears. I've been so terrible to them, yet she still finds it in her heart to love me.
And I hate myself for that.
I was hoping to clean myself up, work things out myself, like I should, but somehow...someway I ended up back here. But worse.
"Don't waste your time, Rose," my words sound harsh, but my tone is gentle. I'm not being mean to her, I just don't want her hurting herself anymore than she already has with seeing me like this. I need to get myself together, I know that, but I also want to fight against what I know.
I wish I could just enjoy this life that seems so carefree without my conscience taking a jab at me so often. Sometimes it quiets down and I lull myself into thinking the way I'm living is alright afterall. And why wouldn't it be? Who gets to decide and tell me if I'm wrong?
I take a step away, feeling myself seethe. But it's not Rose I'm angry at. It's never her. She's been good to me.
"I'm sorry," I mutter before walking away. I don't want to see the expression on her face. I want to stay away from her.
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.