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My father is simply a sperm donor at this point. Diane told me that he’s been in jail multiple times over the last decade, and right now, he’s serving a two-year sentence for illegal possession of firearms and drugs.
My mother was a drug addict and alcoholic.
My father is a convicted felon.
And me…?
Become the man your sister will one day be proud of. Prove everyone wrong.
Naomi rubs her eyes, sleepily, and then yawns. I fight the urge to get up and grab her like I always do when she’s sleepy. She’d fall asleep in my arms, as I read and rock her gently. Mikael moves forward before I can and he picks up my sister. He holds her on his hip, smiling.
My heart aches as I watch Naomi lay her head on his shoulder and close her eyes. There’s just something blissful to this moment, but it pains me. My body goes from cold to hot, then back to cold again. I feel feverish, but I’m also trembling from the inside. Rehya and Mikael look at each other with shocking gratification. As if gaining my sister’s trust is a blessing for them. And indeed, it is.
I see it now — what Diane has been trying to tell me.
Picking up the packet of pink marshmallows from beside me, I give it to Diane. “Can you give this to her? It’s her favorite and I bought it for her birthday.”
I smile, my heart beating in my throat. My eyes burn with unshed tears, but I refuse to spill any more. “It’s all I have.”
The marshmallows are all I have to give her.
Diane takes it from me, and then pulls me in her arms again. She gives me a tight hug before letting go. “You’re a good guy, Grayson. And I know, one day, you will grow up to be a fine gentleman.”
I can barely focus on her words.
I don’t know what to do with what she has just said.
A good guy? A fine gentleman? What is that even supposed to mean?
How can I be anything…when I just lost the sole purpose I had in my life?
***
Three weeks later
The sun has just set, and this place is already loud, sweaty and crowded. I walk deeper into the dark alley. The air is hot and musky, and the smell is almost pungent. But I don’t let it deter me. This place is a shit-hole, but it’s my only solace.
The only thing that feels right at the moment, even though I know it’s all wrong.
Flexing my fingers, I open and close my fist. I move past the crowd and stalk toward Roan. He has his messy blond hair in a man bun tonight. Roan sees me coming, and the smirk on his face is almost instant. “Put your name down for tonight?”
“Put me first,” I say, my voice harsher than usual.
I need this.
To feel human.
To feel alive again.
Roan nods, and then clasps my shoulder in a friendly manner I don’t like. I shake his hold on me, my jaw tightening. I don’t want anyone touching me. “You know, you’re too young to be here,” he says, eyebrows raised. “But no one knows that except me.”
“Does it matter? Does anyone care?”
He shrugs, his smile widening. “Nope. It’s all about the money. And you fight good.”
I know I fight good. I’m six foot two and still growing, and I weigh almost 190 pounds. I’m taller and bigger than most guys my age. No, I’m taller and bigger than most adult men.
The crowd parts for me, and the roars grow louder, like thunder to my ears. The sound vibrates through my chest, and I feel it with each intake of breath.
