Hey all, here is the next chapter. It may or may not be as good as the others. I had a hard week and I tried to put my emotions in words and in the perspective of Foreman. I don't know if I succeeded. Please don't be too harsh on me. I tried. It's just been a horrible week for me, but I won't go into details.

Chapter 3: Just Breathe

There's a light at each end of this tunnel,
You shout 'cause you're just as far in as you'll ever be out
And these mistakes you've made, you'll just make them again
If you only try turning around

I pull into my old neighborhood. Nothing has changed in 10 long years. I feel sad to see all these people, living exactly the same. The only indication that time hasn't stopped is the tired and aged look in many familiar faces I knew as a kid. My heart sinks. Dear God, I really don't want to be here. I look over at my colleague and I see fear on her face. She is tense; can't say I blame her. Not many white people venture this deep into the ghetto, especially women.

I see curious eyes following us down the street. They must be really confused by the Lexus. I imagine it's like a wild animal seeing a human for the first time- scared yet curious. I drive slowly; I don't want to stir the beasts. I look in my rear view mirror and see some hunters on the prowl- damn. Cameron notices also. "Eric, we're gonna get shot aren't we?" I try to laugh at her comment and shrug. Yea it's so funny isn't it?

I look down the street and my old home looms in the not so far distance. Suddenly, years of memories flood back: Learning to ride a bike with my brothers behind me; late nights of midnight tag with the neighborhood kids; group gatherings of teenage rap wars; the occasional summer night BBQ. Yea, there were some happy times, but I think we were all in denial just trying to do our best. Then I think of that night again and the screams of my parents and the sudden silence ring in my ears.

I feel tears form behind my eyes, but I do not cry. I've cried too many times over this. There is nothing left. I'm empty.

As I drive by the old house I notice how depressed it looks. The fence is a very dirty white, the ceiling is caving in and the grass is dead. On the raggedy porch, I see two familiar faces sitting together. I think they recognize me as well. If they did, I don't like the looks on their faces. I see hatred and pain in their features. What I wouldn't give to just flip a U-turn right now and high-tail it out of here. As I pass the next few houses, I see the two men stand up and walk to the gate. They watch me drive. They see the crowd coming and they join. Wonderful.

Finally, our goal is in sight. I pull up to the home that looks eerily like my old home. It too is in pretty bad shape. The siding is falling off and there are broken windows. I park in his driveway, it's not going to help me much, but I find more comfort in a driveway than the street. I kill the ignition and look over at her. She seems to be breathing heavy. "You ready to get this over with?" She looks over me with teary eyes. "Can I stay in the car?" I laugh at her. "And you think you're safer in here than out there? They don't give a damn about car alarms. That doesn't stop them." I lean over and open the glove compartment. A black gun falls into the palm of my hand. I haven't forgotten ghetto life. She looks at me even more terrified. I try to reassure her with a smile. "We will be fine. They probably just want to look. Don't make eye contact unless they speak and stay close to me ok?" I hope I helped, but honestly, I'm not exactly bodyguard material. Maybe I will join a gym after this.

She hesitates as I place the gun in my pocket. We sit in silence as the crowd gathers. We are about to break into a home with 20 witnesses. Thank you Dr. House. I can tell she wants to leave and not even get out of the car. We have come too far now. I unlock the doors and her breathing seems to stop. Our safety is gone. I tell her to just breathe. I open the door and am caught off guard with the cold air. It almost takes my breath away.

I walk over to the passenger side and open it for her. I can tell she is trying to mentally prepare herself. It's now or never. I grab her arm gently and prop her up. She can't show weakness in front of these people. They will take advantage. I think she gets the hint from my gesture and surprises me as she takes control of herself well. She puts her hands in the wool pockets of her long jacket. I don't even bother to set the alarm on the car. That would be an insult in front of all of their faces. I guide her to the front door and the crowd is painfully silent. There are not utters of disbelief or anger. This worries me.

I begin picking the lock and it seems to be taking forever. My heart begins beating faster as I get desperate to get it over with. I begin stumbling over my swollen fingers. This is so frustrating. Suddenly a voice from the crowd reaches my cold ears. "Eric Foreman? Is that you?" I look up and see my brother Rodney in the front of the crowd with William just behind him. I nod my head; I won't lie. There is a slight gasp from the others. Oh yes, they remember me now.

I wasn't expecting a happy homecoming, but this isn't what I wanted. I wanted to see them angry with me. I wanted to see pure hate, at least then I could understand. What I got were looks of pain on the faces of everyone. Everyone looks at me like a sick animal. Some look at me like an alien, as if they don't know me. Perhaps they don't. William barely audibly mutters my name and I hear a voice from the back ask loudly, "Is that the Foreman Traitor?" I see many nodding heads and it hurts. But then I saw the heads of my brothers nod in unison as they pierce me with their gaze.

My heart stops.

Just breathe.