Noxious

7 | lose control

Charly

I was livid. 

After receiving the time of my life from my foster Dad, the pain drove me to dangerous intentions. I was convinced that money was the root of all evil and life had dealt me the worst deck of cards in all of history. 

I wiped the blood from my busted lip and turned the last street corner. I could still feel the fresh pain of my foster Dad's fist cracking against the side of my face. I had just barely closed the car door when he struck, and we were still sitting outside the police station. 

I had been fined five hundred dollars for the vandalism and he had to pay it because I was only sixteen. Then, he made sure I paid for it at home in other ways. I was lucky to still be walking. 

The abandoned building that stood on the end of the street was almost a welcoming sight. In all reality, it was pitiful looking, just like this side of the city, but it was where I could catch a break. It was home to the homeless and kids made money selling drugs, it wasn't half bad. 

I spotted Dylan leaning up against the wall I always perched on. He was facing away from me, smoking a cigarette. He never saw me coming. 

I tapped on his shoulder and as soon as he turned, my fist broke his nose in the blink of an eye. 

"Ow! What the fuck!" He cried out, stumbling backward as fresh blood splattered all over his clothes from his nose. When he realized it was me, his eyes widened, "Charly, wait, I can explain--" 

I didn't want an explanation. My second swing cut him off as it clipped his cheekbone and he briefly fell, trying to avoid the full force of my attack. Maybe then he realized I wasn't fucking around because he scrambled to escape me. 

I drove my knee directly into his gut and he went down for good. While he was gasping, I rolled him over, straddled him, and let loose the anger that coursed deep within my veins. I only stopped when my fists were wet with blood. 

Beside me, I noticed an onlooker. "Help me," I demanded. 

The random kid immediately stood up and helped me haul Dylan to his feet. There weren't any questions asked, this type of thing happened like clockwork around here.

"You have a phone?" I asked the kid. I wiped my hands free of blood on Dylan's clothes, not that he would mind. 

The kid slipped me a flip phone. Most likely a burner. I took it and dialed 911. 

When the ambulance arrived on the corner of the street I had given the operator the address for, Dylan was hardly conscious. His emergency consent was given, which made me happy. The paramedics briefly asked us about what happened and I just shrugged. 

Before they took Dylan away, I stepped up to the stretcher he was being strapped onto. 

I tapped his cheek until his eyes fluttered open for a brief moment, and then I said, "Enjoy the five-thousand-dollar bill, motherfucker."

That's what you get for fucking up my life. 

I held up my middle finger as the paramedics closed the doors.

"That's the most fucked up thing I ever witnessed," The kid who helped me said when the ambulance disappeared into the city, "How do you know he won't turn your ass in for assault and battery?"

I patted his shoulder and headed back, "He can try, I have alibis."

Dylan wouldn't do shit, and I knew it. These types of disputes were always settled on the streets, and I would be waiting.