Wrong-An Ethan Morales FanFiction

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟒

𝓔𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓷

I ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴛʜɪs ᴅᴀʏ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ. Bᴜᴛ ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs ʜᴇʀᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴀᴅʀᴇɴᴀʟɪɴᴇ ᴡᴀs ʀᴜɴɴɪɴɢ through my fucking veins.
Terrance had gotten some really interesting information about Hernandez, and thinking about them made my blood run cold. It was something I wish I never knew, because now the only thing coming to mind when I heard his name, was to kill him. Hunt the bastard down and cut all of his limbs off slowly and torturously. So that he felt every inch of the fucking blade separating the different members of his body.
I walked and walked until I found the warehouse, rain pouring down on me as I kept the hood of my sweater draped over my head. Once I reached the garage door, I lifted it and quickly walked inside, letting it shut behind me. Terrance said he would be here, and when I switched on the light, he was here. With our special guest.
This case, we were his special guests, he was the owner of the warehouse after all.
Amazing sight.
Hernandez was sitting on the ground, his mouth covered by a white and dirty cloth, wrapped tight around his head. His hands handcuffed behind him, chained to a pillar structured to a wall. Terrance walked over, blood on his nose and the start of a black eye. He must have been in fucking hell to get his own boss like this.
"The prick didn't stop moving. I had to fucking stab his leg to get him to pass out for a bit." He groaned, crossing his arms as we both looked down at the bastard.
His eyes were open, and I'm sure he was aching to say something. So I walked over and pushed the cloth from his mouth down, seeing him try to reach my hand with his teeth but to no avail.
"When I get out of here I'll fucking kill you, kid." He barked, trying to wiggle his way out of his restraints, the chains hitting against the wall.
"You're really delusional if you think you're getting out of here, buddy, let me tell you why," I started, crouching in front of him while he glared at me, "You sold drugs to a fucking teenager, threatened to hurt his mother if he didn't get you your fucking money, went after his girlfriend and threatened her of rape twice," My hand clutched his hair and pulled his head back, a grunt leaving his mouth, "Held the girl at gunpoint, and tried to hide your real identity."
His eyes widened, "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about."
"Oh really, Sebastian Morales? Fucking stupid if you thought I wouldn't find out. Hernandez is a dumb name anyways, I knew something was off. Especially when you called me 'Morales'. The look in your eyes, it was always so suspicious." I laughed, letting his head go and getting back up, before kicking his face, eliciting a wince from him and his nose to start bleeding.
"Thought you'd never find me, son." He chuckled, and my jaw tightened.
     Son? Is he fucking kidding me right now?
"After what you did you have no right to call me "son". You don't deserve the right to call me that. You fucking left my mom pregnant on the side of a road by herself. You know what that is? Being a coward. You were the one getting her pregnant and leaving her all alone. I grew up alone, you know that? I was bullied by fucking kids because I had no one on father's day. And you were here the whole time. You stayed in the same fucking town, married another fucking woman, had another fucking child, and left us to rot alone. And if you think I ever thought of seeking for you, to try to love you, well I didn't. I fucking hate you." I growled, tears of anger starting to burn in my eyes while the only thing I saw was red. Crimson.
Without another thought, I started hitting him. Blow after blow, my fists starting to bleed as tears slid down my cheeks. He was helpless, so I used him as a human punching bag. And he deserved it. For all the things he did. For never reaching out.
Mom. Isabel. Money. Drugs. Threats. Everything he did to me or the people around me coming back into my mind, the ick I had for him growing stronger with every single fucking second. I was going to fucking kill him with my bare hands. He deserved it anyway.
His wife and kids would probably be devastated, but what about me and my mom? He left us.
Why not me? Why did he choose them over me and my mom?
Tears kept sliding down my face over and over while I hit him again and again. Until eventually, two strong hands pulled me away from him, even though I tried to get back to the coward's bloody and bruised face.
"Get off of me!" I shouted, trying to hit the person who had grabbed me before I realised it was Terrance. I still pushed him away and looked into his eyes, my tears blurring my vision.
"You're going to kill him, Ethan. You're a kid." He sighed, before reaching into the back of his jeans and pulling out a gun, shooting Hernandez—I mean Sebastian—right in the head without even looking away from me.
When I looked, blood was spurting out from the guy's forehead, a soulless body resting against the structure. It grossed me out, the meal from earlier threatening to come out through my mouth not in the best way. But I swallowed everything back down. I just needed a breather. My chest started heaving, and Terrance put his gun back in the backpocket of his jeans.
He had been the one to finish him, but I killed him. And I didn't fucking regret it. If I could, I would have killed him a thousand times more. In a thousand different ways.
This bastard deserved it. He knew he would die one day anyways. Yet, I started crying like a little kid would.
I ran over to the metal sink not too far away from me and threw up all the things I'd eaten today. My hands clutched the edges of the cold metal, my knuckles white as I held on for dear life while all my meals poured out of my mouth in the worst way you could imagine. But while it was only mixed up food that came out of my stomach, a lot of things came with it too.
I was grossed out by everything. What they did to my mom when I was a kid and what they made me watch, all the things people told me, all the words I wanted to say to now a corpse and that now I can't because it won't hear me.
He probably would have never heard me anyways, but I knew he knew that. I know that he knew who I was ever since we met. Shrimp had known him since he was thirteen, and I didn't have the courage at the time to meet a drug dealer.
Movies on the TV had shocked me too much, and I wasn't brave as a kid anyways. Or had the heart to go against my mom and buy drugs on my own. Even though I already started ingesting them at thirteen, like Shrimp and the rest of my friends.
Once all liquid had poured out, I continued dry heaving until my throat was sore and my eyes were dry from all the crying. I gripped the edge of the sink tighter and buried my face in my arm, trying to take a breath and process what just happened.
Why am I even feeling like this? The bastard deserved what he got. And now he's dead.
But what about the moments I wanted to live with a father figure? With someone who would raise me with my mom and teach me things she could never teach on her own.
At the end of the day, growing up without the bastard of father I had made me a good person, I think. I might not have the best habits or best lifestyle, but I'm good.
I'm good.
I'm good.
ImgoodImgoodImgood.
The words kept going back and forth in my mind, and my legs suddenly gave out, making me fall on the floor, ass down. I brought my knees to my chest, not even remembering that my chin was still dirty with my own vomit. I felt Terrance's eyes on me. Pity, I suppose.
"Clean yourself up. I'll take care of the body." He said, and I didn't move until my brain told me so.
When I got up, I felt dizzy. Too dizzy. But I managed to clean myself up and recompose myself. This was too much. So I left without another word, but I knew Terrance knew that I had more to say. So much more.
Taking a breather wasn't bad, and the air outside was fresh. The exact type of air I needed right now. I needed to go check on Isabel, it had been a week since we hadn't spoken and she had gone to the judge's office a few days ago for her parents. I needed to know how that went, even though the only thing I wanted to do right now was go back home and sleep.
One long ass nap.
I was still hurt. Everything hurt.
My hands were clean, but they had blood on them. Yet, I both didn't regretted it and wished none of this had ever happened.
Finally, I got to Isabel's house, knocking and waiting for her to answer. Or for anyone else to answer. I didn't even give a shit if it was one of the bastard of parents she had or her little sister. I would get through them. The door opened, and Isabel was behind it. Eyes swollen, widening when she saw me. She must have been sleeping.
Silk top, silk shorts, white slippers, messy hair pulled to the side.
"Unexpected of seeing you here...all dirty and...Oh, God, are you crying?" She urged, rubbing her eyes with her thumbs and looking up into mine.
"No?" It was barely a lie, but I was hiding my emotions from her.
"Oh fuck no, come inside." She commanded, opening the door wider.
"What about your parents?"
"Talking with police officers twenty minutes away from here," She gestured for me to come inside, "Now."
I walked inside without another word, hands in my pockets and waiting for her to say something, I knew she wanted to say something anyways.
Once I turned around to face her, she walked over in a few seconds and grabbed my face between her hands, mine going to her waist to hold me up.
     "What happened? Why are you crying?" She asked, her eyes drowning in concern.
     "He will never get close to you again, Isabel." The words came out as a whisper, and I barely heard them myself, but she understood.
     "Who will never get close to me again, Ethan?" She asked softly, caressing my face as I felt tears burning behind my eyes again.
     "He will never ever touch one single of your perfect locks of hair, cariño." My hands tightened around her waist and pulled her tighter against me, pressing our bodies together as one of my hands went up to her hair, running through the strands.
     The second time was the charm, she understood. Her gaze softened, and that's when tears started flowing down my face.
     Everything hurt.
     "Oh, Ethan." She whispered, running both her hands through my hair, pulling me into her neck.
      I nuzzled my face in her skin, crying against it as she held me. Fuck, I was getting weak. I really was crying in front of her.
     "Everything fucking hurts, cariño."