Tobias was smart when he agreed with my demands. It is just a pity he scratched out my suggestion of adding my mom’s name alongside Axel’s. He’s adamant I’ll change my mind about her resurrection once the dust settles. I doubt it.
She cheated.
Ryan cheated.
The whole fucking world cheated.
I only turned nineteen last month, and I’m already done with society. I’m going to be one of those old, sad cat ladies. Except I won’t be old. I’ll just be sad.
I’m drawn away from my negative thoughts when Tobias squeezes my shoulder. After mustering a fake reassuring grin, he says, “Take as much time as you need, Savannah. We’ll wait for you outside.”
Spotting my half-hearted nod, he stands and exits my room, taking my displeased mother with him.
“She needs time,” I hear him say as he guides her down the blank hallway.
I wait for their footsteps to stop booming into my room before glancing down at the letter I’ve been writing the past hour. It is done, one page of handwritten print. It is only missing one final thing: my signature.
After a long and tedious deliberation, I settle on the obvious.
Anna Banana
Chapter 4
Ryan
Four Years Later. . .
Chris stumbles into his living room, his steps as wobbly as the snarl on my face. It is barely 11 AM, and he is already well on the way to being drunk. I'd like to say his inebriated state is because today is the fourth anniversary of his little brother's death, but I know that isn't the case. He isn't guzzling down beer because he wants to forget; he's guzzling it because he has become his father. He is an alcoholic.
The past four years have been tough on Chris.No. Correction. The past four years have been tough on us all; Chris’s recovery is just longer than the rest of us. Brax and I have stood by his side the entire time, but nothing we say or do has helped his grief. He isn’t just angry he lost his brother; he’s mad as hell.
I can understand his anger. Michael was only four years old. He had barely lived before his life was cruelly stripped away. But shouldn’t Michael’s death encourage Chris to be a better man? Shouldn’t it stop him from following the muddy footprints our fathers’ left behind? Shouldn’t he appreciate the life Michael never got to live?
I want to say yes to all my questions, but I’ve never been fond of lying. Chris isn’t living his best life; he is living his worst. He doesn’t respect himself, much less those around him. He doesn’t even bother hiding his drug paraphernalia from me anymore. He knows the field I work in, but he also knows I care about him too much to watch him waste the prime years of his life in jail alongside his father.
God—what a fucking soft cock I've become. Just like I did my entire childhood, I am once again keeping silent. This has to stop. I need it to end.
“Do you really need another, Chris?” I ask, noticing he isn’t just clasping two beers in his hand. He has three. “Today is supposed to be about remembering Michael.”Not drinking yourself into a coma.
Chris shoots me a disapproving glare before slumping into the springless sofa shoved against the far wall of his living room. Unlike me, Chris moved out of home within weeks of us finishing school. He works as a mechanic at a local wrecking yard and has been dating a local girl the past few months. The moving out part is like honey and milk, a perfect combination. My other two statements are more like oil and water.
The wrecking yard Chris works at is owned by a notorious man in our community. His name isn't on the title, and he hasn't stepped foot on the premises since the day it opened two years ago, but everyone knows it is one of Col's many last-ditch attempts to return his wealth to its former glory.
A little under three years ago, Col faced federal charges. The list of accusations was immense: racketeering, kidnapping, money laundering, attempted murder—you name it, it was addressed during his arraignment. The prosecution was certain they had a slam dunk case.
They didn’t.
All but one remained after a yearlong trial: Col Petretti.
I followed the case with interest, not just because I am a member of the law enforcement community, but because names mentioned during the trial piqued my interest. I had associated, hated, and fought against the men cited in the charges. I even knew some of them on a more personal level.
I was also hoping to see a familiar face.
I never did. Well, not the one I was hoping for.
Although Isaac was never summoned to testify in Col’s trial, his name was mentioned numerous times by the prosecutors leading the case. I don’t know if they were using him to aid in their case or discredit it. But at the end of the day, Col walked free.
His associates weren’t as lucky. It wasn’t just their assets stripped from their possession. They also lost their freedom.
