Hey, for some reason, you clicked to read this story. Well, I hope you like it.
Cursing, death, drugs, violence, and the likes will be present here. If you can't handle it, don't leave a rude comment, just stop reading. This is a story that revolves around gangs, people.
Anyhow.
Please enjoy this.
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***
"Final notice. Final notice. Final notice. Not only will we be kicked out but the lights, water, and gas get turned off. Also, they want to repo both the van and Leons car." Kayla rubs her forehead, stress clear in her hazel eyes.
Jet came bounding in, "She had twenty-three dollars in her purse." He tosses the money on the old wooden table.
I finger the diamond butterfly around my neck. I unclasp the silver chain and put it near the money, "How much could I get for this?"
Kayla gaps at me like I shot her, "Leon gave that as a present."
"How much?" I repeat, ignoring the lump in my throat.
"Still not enough to pay for everything." Jet answers.
"I'll add mine." Kayla goes to remove the pearls hanging from her ears.
I shake my head, "I won't pawn that."
"Then here." She gives me my necklace back. I place it around my neck, where it belongs.
I hear the squeaking steps as someone walks down them. My six year old brother, Patrick joins the party.
Yawning, he waddles to me, "Sissy, I'm hungry."
I pick him up and kiss his forehead, "Me too."
"What can we do?" Kayla slams her hands to her face. I notice the slight heave in her shoulders. My twin is crying.
"Awe, hell." I say. "Take him to bed." I give Patrick to Jet. Once they're upstairs and out of sight I go to Kayla, "We'll get through this."
"I miss him, Cameron. I miss him so much." She sobs.
A few tears escape, "You're not alone there."
"I'm going to do it." She sniffles.
"Do what?" I furrow my brows.
"Work with mom." Kayla has been harassed by Diane's creepy employer the moment she got boobs. Whenever we accidentally make small talk with him, he extends a work invitation to Kayla, despite her youth. Leon would keep the psycho in line, but now he's gone.
I shake my head, "Fuck no."
Kayla stares at me with blank eyes, "Jet, Penny, Patrick, Derek, and Jamie have to eat."
"They will."
"Food costs money. Which we no longer have." Kayla sighs, her stomach grumbles.
I bite my thumb nail, "I'll be back."
I march to Diane's room and open the door. There she lays on a dirty mattress, drugged out of her mind. Her hair hangs in unwashed clumps, her skin pale. Drool pours and falls heavily on her bed. I blink at Diane in disgust. How this woman is the mother to all of us, I will never understand. I twist her closet doorknob and dig through her slut clothes.
Diane is a stripper, or like she calls it, an exotic dancer. She has plenty of outfits. She used to make good cash, then stretch marks, wrinkles, and basically age caught her. She was a descent mother also, until she got hooked on dope. It went down hill from there. At least that's what Leon would say. I have to take his word for it.
I pick out a red bra, leather vest, and black spandex. From her shoes I take these killer ankle boots I've had my eye on. I quickly change then cover myself with a trench coat. In the hallway, I see Derek's toy water gun. I stuff it in my pocket.
I'm almost out the door when Kayla obnoxiously clears her throat.
"Leaving?"
"I'll be back." I say curtly.
"Where you going so late?"
"To get what we need." I step into the night.
I take Leon's 2015 blue Tundra. I dread driving such a huge truck, but it beats the dying van Diane has. I mostly hate that Leon left it to me. Like he knew something would happen and I might need it. Always thinking ahead.
Later, I adjust the red wig for the hundredth time, the ponytail is as close to perfect as I can get it. I check my dark and brooding makeup, can't even recognize me. Just to be on the safe side, I put the black mask on.
It leaves my ruby red lips exposed but protects most of my face. The foundation does a nice job of concealing my slight acne. Satisfied, I hop out of the truck.
I keep to the shadows, if anyone were to see me they'd call the cops. I'm not here to cat burgle or travel in the back of a squad car.
I wait, then one strides by. I figured they'd be around this is, after all, their territory. Craning for a shot to double check, I see his tattoo. Defiantly a target.
He turns toward a dim ally, it's almost like he's encouraging what I'm about to do. I follow him with tons of care. These boots can make a lot of unwanted noise.
He meets an obvious junkie who is impatient for his next hit. I pull Derek's water gun from the side of my hip and hold the plastic toy tightly. This guy must be new, he's way too easy to trap.
I press the nozzle to the back of his head, "Get on the fucking ground."
"Who the fuck?"
The junkie scrambles away; I don't worry about him. It's not like he'll contact the police, telling them how a chick robbed his drug dealer.
"I said get on the fucking ground." I press harder.
"Take a fucking chill pill." He growls but lowers onto his stomach.
I grab his shirt and see his tattoo, a black lamb with the hidden letters BS in it's wool. Just as I thought. He's a Black Sheep member. Judging by the fresh ink, he's only been accepted a few days ago.
"Empty your pockets." I order, my voice harsh and vacant.
"Bitch, fuck you!"
I grab a brick and hit his head with it, blood gushes on the floor from his wound, "Listen here, prick, I want you to empty your damn pockets."
He whimpers but reaches into his jacket. I'm prepared to knock a weapon away, but instead he takes out two thick wads of cash. I snatch them, they barely fit in my hands.
I smirk, "Thanks for complying." I run top speed back to the Tundra.
*
"Rise and greet the day." I sing.
"Cameron, it's Sunday. Go to bed." Kayla whines, tugging Penny closer for her warmth.
"But I brought Micky D's." I fake pout, I'm in a ecstatic mood and I want my brothers and sisters to be in one too.
Kayla rolls and matches my pout, "We're broke."
I hold up several hundred bills, "Not anymore."
Her hazel eyes pop, "Where did you-"
"Don't worry. There's food in the kitchen, the bills are paid, and I gave the landlord enough for another month. We're okay for now." I grin.
Jamie raises and rubs his eye, "Mommy, hungy."
Jamie is my brother, not my kid. Yet he's developed the habit of referring to me as 'mom'. Which confuses everyone because Kayla is more of a mother type than me. But I don't have the heart to correct him. "Come eat."
They wake one by one and gap at the mountain of fast food on the table. It feels good to see them finally gorging themselves after days without a solid meal.
"Cameron, you didn't join the Kings, did you?" Jet asked as he bit a McMuffin.
"Do you see a tattoo? Leon died last week because of those fuckers. Why the hell would I join them." I hotly whisper, venom in my words.
"Only asking." He backs off.
"Guys, ready for a surprise?" I smile at my siblings.
"Doggy?" Jamie's green eyes shine.
I pat his two year old head, "No. Go in the living room."
The younger kids rush through the sheet to the next room. I broke the door when I found out about my brother. Penny had scarified her sheet to be a makeshift door. I'll have to get a new one and Penny another blanket.
They coo over the brand new flat screen in the living room. Derek greedily dives for the remote, "Whoa. There's a thousand channels."
"Cam." Kayla drags me back to the kitchen.
"Don't question anything. Please." I plead.
"Tell me."
"I can't."
"Why not. We're twins. I tell you everything." She complains.
"The less you know the better."
"Are you stripping? Did you get in a gang? Selling drugs? Oh my God, I swear, if you're involved with prostitution-!"
I wave my hands anxiously, "I'm not doing any of that."
She offers her pinky, "Promise."
"Cross my heart." I link our tiny fingers.
*
I slowly step on the dead grass to my brothers grave. When there, I add four more white roses to the growing stack and read his tombstone;
Leon Jacob Martinez
Beloved brother, adoring son
June 23, 1995- October 9, 2015
I stroke the letters of his name and cry. I lean my head on his cold tombstone and I cry.
Everyday since I lost him, this is what I've done. I come to visit him and I cry. I refuse to let my siblings watch me breakdown but here, in front of my dead brother, I lose it.
"Leon, why. Why. You left me. Why?" These questions I say a million times over and can never think of a proper answer.
"I told you. Told you not to become a King. You did anyway. Why. How could you!" I scream, banging my fist on the dirt, "You left me! Left us! The money was nice, but I'd rather have you. Oh, Leon, you were twenty. You weren't supposed to die, not this way, not that young. I don't want to out live you."
Leon wanted to be in a gang, for no other reason than the dough he would earn. He wanted his family to have the best, he was willing to kill for it. And he did. In return he died for it.
"I miss you. And I still love you." I wipe my tears and kiss his name. "Did you see me last night? I hope so. Sorry, but we were going to lose the house. You didn't exactly leave at a good time. Come on, Leon, you had to realize Diane would steal what you left. She'd rather have crack than her own kids. You're her favorite, still. Even dead. Amazing, huh?"
That's what I do. I have childish tantrums where I cry and hit whatever I could find. Then I carry on a conversation with myself, talking like Leon was leaning on the other side of the tombstone. I could sit here praying for hours to whatever God that my brother is listening.
I'm chating aimlessly when I hear the crunching of heavy shoes approaching. I stealthy rise, being extra quiet, I wrap my shaking hands on a branch that fell from the tree a few feet from the graves. I take my stance, ready to swing.
A figure appears, and without thinking, I go for his head.
The guy has smooth reflexes, he ducks and yanks my stick, tearing it from my grip.
"Damn." I mutter, looking at the scrapes on my palms caused by the bark.
"And what exactly were you trying to do?" I peer at his face and see the fucking Devil.
Angel Montez stands before me. Leader of my deceased brothers gang, the Chicago Kings. Technically, he isn't the big boss, but he ranks higher than he should. He was the one who brought the Kings to Leons innocent eyes. He was the one who helped Leon climb through the gang. He was the one who trained Leon. Morphed Leon into a brutal monster; traded my soft bunny for a bitter wolf.
He is the one who all but killed my brother. All the fibers in my body hate him enough to shove a knife in his gut and proudly prance to jail. I refrain because my family needs me, I don't want to get twenty-five to life for him, and he can lay me on my ass.
"You have no fucking right to be here." I poke him in his hard chest.
"He was my friend."
"Bullshit."
"He was!"
"Then explain to me why you let him die!" I shout in his face.
***
And there it is. Honestly, I have no clue where I'm going with this, but I like writing that way.
Like my work?
Go read my other stories!
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Playing The Game is a little more serious. Not like Never Had a Choice. More high school/real world. Avery is a girl who wants to play football. Not unusual, right. But where she lives, she might as well order a coffin.
Please check them out and tell me what you think!
~Peace