Facing Away (Broken Streetfighter)

Mother

Alexander's POV

"What the fudge did you do to this poor girl?!" Macy, my mother, shouts at me the minute she steps into the room. She hates cussing and hates hearing it.

"What are you talking about?! I did nothing! I told you, a truck came blaring out of no where and hit the poor girl as well as her friends!" I tell her. One was dead, one seriously injured, the other in unknown condition.

She sends me a pointed look. "Maybe if my son was not a gang leader, I would tend to believe someone's death was not his fault, putting into consideration that you kill for a living."

I roll my eyes. Yes, it stings a little hearing that from your own mother, but the things she has been through make up for her behavior.

I sigh and sit on the chair next to Brenda's bed. Mommy dearest goes and starts hooking up wires and tubes to Brenda.

A knock occurs causing both mom and I to look up.

We see Alec come in and then two figures follow behind. Emily and Amy.

"About time you guy's fucking got here!" I exclaim. Seriously, I had Lola, Bree and Kylie call them at like 5 in the morning!

"Language!" My mother scowls at me.

I frown. "Sorry." I mutter.

"So..." Emily starts but then trails off.

"Right!" I clap my hands together. "Um, yesterday, after the prank we played on you, Shawn, Caleb and I all went to a party. On the way out we ran into Brenda and her friend. They glanced at us then continued on their way. Before any of us could comprehend anything though, a truck came out of no where and hit all three of the girls. One died, one is seriously injured, and one is in a coma."

I feel bad lying to her, but I don't want to see her reaction if I did tell her the truth, it was partly my fault Brenda and her friends got into the accident, if only I had let her go. I don't want to lose her if she were to blame me though.

"Who died?" She questions.

"A girl named Jenny something." I can't remember her last name, but I made sure to have all her files deleted to make sure the authorities didn't get involved. It was very easy considering she was an orphan living at a small local orphanage nearby. She wasn't very liked from what I heard.

"Who's in critical condition?" 

"Well, I never said critical condition, I said seriously injured, but it's a girl named Harley." She was the one who had refused to let me talk to Brenda.

Her eyes widen in realization. Gosh, I hate this part of the job, telling family members that their son, or father, or husband is never coming home.