6 years earlier...
Zack's POV
I haven't seen dad in a while. Instead, I have been having a hundred "stepdad's" a year ever since I was seven. They usually come through the kitchen window and don't talk to me. They go straight to my mom's room and stay there with her all night. Every afternoon before they come she says I either have to be sleeping when they arrive or I have to be listening to really loud music in my room, quietly, with the headphones she gave me some time ago.
I usually wake up with a strange man in his boxers leaving her room in the morning, leaving a few bucks on the kitchen counter. Sometimes they don't even have their boxers with them, but I have learned to stay in my room until at least noon so I can make sure that whoever came has left and I don't have any awkward encounters.
I remember once when I wasn't sleepy and I didn't put my music on. I was traumatized for life with all the grunts and moans I heard from the room next door.
I hated my stepdads. They never talked to me. They just wanted to fuck my mom for a night or two and then leave...
Mom was very liberal. She always let me stay out late in the street and rarely called me to see when I'd be home. My friends' parents were control freaks. They wanted them home by nine every night and would start calling them like crazy if they were late because they thought they had got themselves in trouble. But my mom was super chill. Once I only got home at one A.M. and she didn't even call me to see if I was alive. I remember getting home that night and seeing her passed out on the couch with a needle in her forearm.
She was very sick, and she had to take her medicine every few hours, otherwise, she gets crazy... Her pupils get really big and she gets this really bad anxiety... She starts screaming at me for no reason and gets violent for some reason... She starts to puke and sweating a lot... It doesn't stop until she injects herself with the medicine again.
I don't live in a good neighborhood. I have woken up to the sound of a shooting happening outside my house, and almost got stabbed when I was coming home from school.
This area of town is divided into groups. We have three gangs that are always waging war upon each other. One of them is mainly minorities who came here illegally. Mexicans, blacks, middle eastern... They are called the 22's as they are always wearing a baseball jersey with the number 22. They have tattoos with that same number... They own a strip club down the street where lots of drugs are sold. Mom told me there's a lot of prostitution there as well. A lot of gun deals are made there, and mom has also told me that a few men have been killed there.
Another gang that is really influent in here is the gypsy one... I don't know if we can call them a gang, since they don't classify themselves as one... They're just a really big gyspsy family that makes a lot of robberies around here. They break into houses and steal whatever they can, they point knives at people's throats and steal their wallets, phones, watches... Everything they can get their hands on... They have loads of problems with the 22's, ever since one gypsy kid stole a pack of cocaine from one of the 22's... There was a nasty fight, that called the entire family and the entire gang... I remember hearing the shooting. Everyone in the houses near mine was freaking out. It was one of the scariest experiences in my life. Especially when a bullet went through my bedroom window and missed my head by a couple of inches...
Then we have the Italians. The Italians are really big and they don't just stick around with drugs, hookers, and guns... The Italians are really smart and have people spread out everywhere. They have a lot of information and lots of little headquarters that most wouldn't even suspect. Mattress shops, laundry places, toy stores, coffee shops... They deal every single drug you could possibly imagine. They deal prostitutes and they even own a brothel. They kidnap kids and send them to Asia in cargo ships... And besides... They are contracted killers, meaning, that if you want someone dead, all you have to do is give them a name... And a fat amount of money...
That is basically what I wake up to every day of my life. It is so intense that sometimes it becomes scary to get out of the house.
It is common knowledge that about 95% of the population in this area of town has some kind of criminal record. My best friend's dad is a convicted murderer, the smartest girl of school, along with her entire family has gone to the police station after they caught their meth lab. The nerd kids at my school have been to a criminal facility for young people after they stabbed another kid for some LSD.
Yeah. It's a fucked up world and here's how I entered it without realizing I was making the worst mistake of my life.
I was riding my bike with my friends. James and Alex. We were riding through the Italian's territory, admiring the beauty of it.
The Italians weren't like the 22's or the gypsies. They were rich and had huge mansions with nice green gardens. They had beautiful houses and the greatest of cars next to shacks and homeless people who had to take the bus.
Most people would be afraid to live in such luxury next to the poorest people of the entire state, but the Italians feared no one. However, everyone feared them. Their reputation didn't go unnoticed. People knew they were killers and the other little gangs didn't have the guts to go after them...
Nevertheless, there we were, riding our bikes through their pretty streets. Admiring the beauty of the houses we'd never have.
We didn't talk. Neither one of us could say a word. We were too fascinated. We never really had the courage to cross the Italian's territory.
We were in the middle of the road as there weren't any cars passing by, so there wasn't' really the risk we could be run over by a car.
Through the corner of my eye, I saw a dirty little girl. Her face was pale, but covered in really dark dust. Her hair, originally blond was greasy and filled with the same dark dust as if she had been on the streets for a really long time. As soon as she saw us, she started running away and I didn't stop her. But I should have. But how could I have known? You'd never suspect a six or seven year old to be a vigilante in an assassin neighborhood.
Minutes later seven men appeared in front of us, blocking the street from us. They were wearing black. The man in the middle had a bow on his hand and was pointing it right at my chest.
They all had different weapons. From the left to the right, I'll tell you their weapons. A dagger, a katana, a machine gun, the bow, a meat knife, a japanese war fan and last, but not least, a revolver.
We stopped. Our legs were shaking like hell and the one in the middle spoke.
"What are you children doing here?"
James and Alex opened their eyes wide open and turned their heads to me, as if I were some kind of leader that was in charge of the talking.
"We... We were just riding our bikes, sir" my voice was shaking so much, and my stomach was turning inside my tummy. I did not know how I wasn't puking from the state of anxiety I was in...
"Or are you part of the 22's?"
"No... No... NO! Please... We... We don't want any trouble, sir" I said, quickly, my breaths becoming shallower as I spoke.
"Are you kids gypsies?"
I shook my head, along with Alex and James. My hands were so sweaty.
He lowered his bow, and I sighed in relief. I wasn't going to be killed by an arrow. Not today, at least...
"Follow me, then."
I didn't want to, and neither did James and Alex. But what choice did we have? None. They were the freaking Italians and we were three wimpy eleven year olds...
So we followed them through the large streets and got into one of the big mansions we had been admiring earlier. Neither one of us thought we'd get the chance to enter in any of these houses. But there we were... Getting into a 5 million dollar mansion...
They made us sit down on the couch and started asking us these really strange questions. Like our blood type, if we had any illnesses, allergies, if we had any heart conditions or disabilities. They asked us who did we live with, and what our parents did.
"You have wronged us by coming into our territory." the bow guy said. he looked like he was the mothercukin' boss of that shit.
"Sorry, sir... We'll never do it again..."
But he laughed.
"Oh no... If you got in once, you will get in more than that..."
"No, no! We promise we won't... Please don't hurt us..." I asked, with tears already streaming down my face.
"You work for us now." he said. I noticed a white stripe on his jet black hair.
"What?" I asked.
"You're healthy, and your parents are cool with whatever you do. So you three little punks work for us now."
"What do you want us to do?" I asked, confused.
"I want you to get into the 22's and report to me every single information about them you can." he told us "If you refuse, it will be the last time you ever make a choice..."
"So... We either get into the 22's and snitch on them for you, or... You kill us?" I asked. It seemed a pretty reasonable choice "What happens if they find us out?"
"Do not worry about that boy. The Italian's are honourable. We have our members back. So. Are you in, or are you dead?"
"I'm in" we all said at the same time.
He smiled at us.
"Welcome, children. My name is Aaron Diaz and I am the boss of the Italians."
Litte did we know we wouldn't just be spying for him.
(Author's Note: This chapter is very important for the story's development later. Hope you like it! Comment what you thought about it and vote! It really motivates me! What do you think will happen?)