CHAPTER 11: HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF
This is probably the darkest and longest section I've posted of any fan fiction I've done. Beware, there is violence and some language, but it is necessary to the story. Enjoy and comment!
RATING: PG-13: violence, blood, some language
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"Wuss, that's what you've always been. You haven't changed," said a young voice.
Three young boys, around age twelve, stood like wolves around another boy in a back alley of a scummy town. Their stained clothes and dirty faces told of hardship of living in the streets. The one who had spoken up had very short dark brown hair and a mightily intimidating face. Something that would match his wolf life demeanor. He was the alpha in this group.
"Yeah, so beat it," came another with sandy hair standing behind the alpha.
"Shut the heck up Tom. Just because I don't wanna beat someone up doesn't mean I can't, Jackson," said a short scrawny boy with a buzz cut as he stared threateningly at the alpha male known as Jackson.
"Ricky, we've told you plenty of times. Unless you do what we need you to do, you can't be part of the gang anymore," said Jackson.
"Who cares about the Coltworth Wolves, you're small timers. I don't get it anyways, why do I have to beat someone up? Couldn't I do something else? It's not very fair," Ricky said.
"Look loser, either you do it or you can be on your own . . . and no one survives out here alone," Jackson said.
Ricky looked around at his opposition, sizing them up as if planning to assault them. Ricky wasn't a very angry child; it was his surroundings that brought out the beast within. On the streets of Coltworth, everyone had an inner animal. If you weren't beastly or frightening, then you died. You faded away quicker than the trails of smoke that wound down the maze-like alleys of the city.
BAM! Ricky had punched Tom, the sandy haired boy in the face. Very hard and very accurately in the face. The other two boys tried to converge upon Ricky, but he was a fast little kid. He swung again and connected with the face of the other boy, with long black hair. Ricky gained his footing and turned to face Jackson.
"Fine! Then I'm going alone. I don't need you idiots!" Ricky said, panting with rage. "Besides, who beats up girls? That's mean," Ricky said.
"Her brother needs to be taught a lesson; we were going to teach him that. But, if you couldn't even beat up a girl, then I'm surprised you knocked out these guys," Jackson said as he looked at his two cronies on the soggy ground of the 3rd street alleyway, weeping with blood-stained faces.
"That's just wrong! Why don't you cowards just do something to the brother? Why does Lilah have to be involved?" Ricky shouted now.
Jackson seemed to have stumbled upon a realization as his eyes narrowed and he looked at Ricky with his penetrating gaze.
"You like her don't you. You want out because you don't want to hurt her," Jackson accused.
Ricky stood proudly, still breathing heavily. He hadn't attacked anyone in a few years, so it was quite a rush for him.
"I knew it. Lilah your girlfriend or something?" Jackson said with a sly grin.
"Go kill yourself Jackson. I'm out," Ricky said with all the cruelty welled up in his minute heart.
Ricky walked away from Jackson, not bothering to look over his shoulder.
"She won't be safe anymore, you realize that?" Jackson threatened. "Just because you're her little bodyguard, doesn't mean we won't come after you!"
Ricky stopped in his tracks, analyzing the problems he had just created, the weight he had burdened himself with. With suave, he turned to face Jackson, about ten feet away.
"Go ahead. I'll be waiting for you."
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Coltworth was a metallic and soulless city of massive factories and smog. It was something of a large vacuum. Anyone who came near was sucked in and never seen again. Very few made it out of the city, none unscathed. It was a place of unwanted memories. Those who had once called this wasteland home never returned. It wasn't a matter of hating the city; it was a matter of not remembering the horrible things they had witnessed. Children dead in alleyways, bums on the street in tattered clothes and banging pans and pots against the knees of those who had money. The prostitutes that hung around every corner like cattle, waiting to be herded away by rich travelers, flew like hawks surveying their prey. They were empty shells know. That's what Coltworth does. Like a spider, it melts away your insides and sucks you dry, spirit, mind, security, and soul.
Ricky had looked over his shoulder several hundred times by the time he had reached the dingy old apartment building where he lived. His mother had left years ago and only his father remained, a deadbeat who had wandered from any path he may have had. Climbing the three flights of stair and kicking rubble from the rotted ceiling out of his way, he opened the blackened wooden door with a small silver key in his pocket.
He crept into the living room like a mouse, careful not to awaken his father who would surely be in some kind of drunken stupor by now. The TV was full of static and the lazy boy chair was empty, which meant that his dad was probably out. It was only around eight thirty when Ricky had stepped into the smelly abode that he called home.
Ricky found his way to the fridge and opened it, liberating a mouse from its chilling prison. It scurried away from Rick and into a whole in the adjacent wall.
"Damn mice," he muttered to himself.
He was surprised to find that there was some lemonade left over from the other day, which had been very hot for spring time in Coltworth. Taking a deep swig from the pitcher of clear yellow liquid, he choked and spit out the lemonade all over the floor.
"Ugh, gross . . ." Ricky said as he spit the alcoholic liquid out onto the broken tile floor. "Dad must be mixing his drinks again, great, now I'll just die of thirst." Ricky angrily threw the pitcher out the back window, listening to it hit the ground with a loud crack.
Hours passed and Ricky now lay in bed, listening to the moans of some woman coming from his father's room. Once again, he would lay awake all night with no sleep, chained to the bed by disgusting sounds of lust.
"To hell with this," Ricky said as he pushed the covers off of himself and put his blue jeans back on. He gathered a few things and prepared to leave. Whenever he had problems, he would go to Lilah's house, just a few blocks away. He had gone there before when his father and he had gotten in a fist fight. Grabbing twelve dollars from a hidden compartment in his shelf, he sighed. It was sad that he had to hide his money from his father, who would quickly exchange it for some kind of strong liquor.
Onto the streets he ran, awaiting the comfort of Lilah's warm home. Her mother was a business woman in town, one of the few with money to spare. Lilah and Ricky had been friends since they met in kindergarten.
As he approached Lilah's house on Adam's street, he could see her smooth face and brown hair to her neck, those sapphire eyes and cherry red lips. The beautiful white house came into view as Ricky entered one of the richest sections in town. However, something was wrong. Lilah's light in her room was off and she never turned it off before 12 A.M. because she watched a late night show religiously.
Ricky tensed up.
IShe won't be safe anymore, you realize that/I A voice spoke in his head.
He walked up to the door and knocked. The door opened as soon as he applied a little force to it. Ricky realized that her mother's car wasn't there either. He stepped into the house and a foreboding sense of danger and doom overcame him. He felt like he had taken steps into a lion's den, where he could be pounced upon and killed at any moment. Lilah's house had never felt so dark and uninviting before.
IPlease no/I, he thought.
The worst thoughts and images came over him. Ricky remembered a day when he was out with Jackson and their little posse and he told Ricky to wait outside and watch for cops. Ricky did just that but had always wondered what it was that Jackson had done. He only was in their gang because Jackson would share any money he got with his friends. However, the friendship between Jackson and Ricky had been degrading for a while now. Rick walked into the house he was supposed to be guarding while Jackson did his 'job'. Ricky turned a corner and saw Jackson with a 2x4, beating a man who was crying in pain, begging him to stop. The other two gang members had beaten him down and Jackson was now hitting him in the face.
Ricky had never felt the same about Jackson since. He never asked questions, he had just needed the money. But the man's cries, his throat choking on blood, pierced his brain and cemented themselves there, a constant reminder of what people like Jackson were capable of.
Running up the stairs, he saw Lilah's door was open and could sense trouble. Her room was in a bit of disarray as a few books had been knocked off shelves. However, she was no where.
IThis isn't good. Lilah where are you/I He thought frantically.
He ran back down the wooden staircase and peeked out towards the back entrance. A cool breeze told him that the door was wide open. Running faster now, he stepped out into the cold night once more and froze.
Jackson stood in front of him, metal pipe in hand. Ricky could see Tom and another boy behind him, holding someone face down to the ground. Short brown hair of the captive fluttered in the breeze. The lamps in the backyard of the house showed a beautiful shade of green across the lawn and garden.
"LILAH!" Ricky yelled.
"DON'T MOVE!" Jackson retorted.
There was a tense moment, a standoff between the two boys. It was the calm before the storm as thunder shook the sky ominously.
"How perfect, the rain is coming," Jackson spoke softly. For a rather disturbed child, Jackson had the odd habit of becoming poetic when it came to violent situations. It was a very unsettling quality of him.
"Why the hell are you doing this? It's her brother you're after? Why does someone else always have to suffer?" Ricky said angrily.
As if Ricky had never spoken, Jackson continued in his poetic tone of voice.
"The music of nature, its thunderous song, it's coming Ricky. The roar of the skies is a sign of impending doom, it is nature's horseman. I told you that you wouldn't be safe for what you did. You betrayed us and turned your cowardly face around. How else would you be punished? You know that no one leaves this city unscarred, why should you be exempt?" Jackson said with increasing malice.
"If it's me you want, then come after me! Leave her out of this!" Ricky said once more.
"Hey Jack, I think he needs a tissue!" Said Tom, a portly boy with a crooked grin.
"No, he needs to be taught. He needs to learn that you can't just walk away from problems. If this is how the lesson is learned, then we'll do it this way," Jackson said in all seriousness.
Ricky knew it was coming but reacted too slowly. Jackson had turned his back on Ricky and swung around with amazing speed, cracking the pipe across Ricky's face. He hit the green grass back first with a soft thud, clutching his undoubtedly broken cheek bone and his freshly torn skin.
Thunderclouds bellowed once more, signifying a storm. Lightning joined into the atmospheric orchestra as Ricky looked up from the ground.
Jackson stepped over Ricky and picked him up forcefully, only to restrain him by placing the pipe across his neck in a type of strangle hold.
"Now you'll get to see what happens when you cross that fine red line Ricky. This is what you recieve for your heroic departure from our gang," Jackson said evilly.
Tom lifted up Lilah, whose face was stained with earth and bits of grass. She was unharmed, but gagged. She tried to release a cry, but was unsuccessful as the gag imprisoned her mournful pleads. The other boy, whom Ricky did not know, now came into the dim light of the garden lamps. The light was enough to allow Ricky a glance at the boy's face.
This young man was the same average height as Jackson. However, while Jackson was the alpha wolf of the Coltworth Wolves, this one was different. This boy was an entirely different animal. A snake came to mind when Ricky noticed his silky skin, thin frame, matted black hair, and menacing green eyes.
"Who the hell are you?" Ricky spat to the snake boy.
He returned a glare to Ricky, only to reach into his pocket and pull out a pair of brass knuckles. Ricky's insides tightened instantly. He tried with all his might to break free from Jackson's grip, but couldn't muster the strength. Ricky's screams pierced the night as sounds of metal cracking flesh and bone rang throughout the night.
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Rain patted lightly at Ricky's face as he woke. He was still in the backyard and it was approaching dawn. In a second, he remembered why he was there and what had happened. Images of Lilah's bleeding face flashed through his head. The snake like boy who struck her down relentlessly. Ricky remembered crying, his tears flooding his mouth as the rain had begun to pour after Lilah was dropped to the ground, silent. At that thought, Ricky turned immediately to where he remembered Lilah being held.
If you've ever witness a something fall and shatter, like a glass or a vase, then you know that uncomfortable feeling of sadness and hopelessness. Ricky's shock held him down tight as he stared at the lifeless body of Lilah Gardner, his closest friend since he was a toddler.
Her beautiful face was distorted with bruises and gashes. A messy stain upon a fine silk, her expression painful. All at once, Ricky wanted to scream, to die, to kill. His emotions exploded and drove through his body with quickness and agility as he felt every inch of his body crawl with sorrow and rage. Guilt, fury, sadness, despair, and cruel hatred filled his being. It was too much; he had to release his feelings, his emotions, his experience.
The morning came, a bloody sun to a gruesome day brought on by the horrifying screams of a twelve year old boy. He yelled for what seemed like hours and the rays of the sun purged the darkness, failing to cleanse the specters of the night.