Prologue
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“GIVE IT TO ME!”
That voice should’ve had me getting the hell out of there. Instead, I swung around to find the two constant irritants to my less than perfect life. One quick look and you’d think they were twins but on closer inspection there was three distinct differences to their gaunt features. Height, weight and the color of their eyes. Bobby, the bigger dickface of the two had eyes so dark they were almost black, just like his soul. He was taller and slightly heavier on the muscle. Ronny, whose blue eyes which probably held a genuine sparkle once, was shorter and way too thin to be harassing anyone but Bobby gave him the confidence he required.
“I said give it to me. Now!” Bobby sneered.
I was chomping at the bit for some action. It was time to let them know, I was no pushover. “Fuck you. I saw it first.”
“Don’t matter.” His grin was sly and something about his expression told me he’d rule an empire someday. That was, if he had the brains to survive the cruel world we lived in. I doubted it. He’d been catching a piss when God was handing out brains. Missing the line, he’d gone straight down to the door marked stupid.
I chuckled at the thought and his brow shot up. He lunged forward and I stepped back. If I was going down, I had no intention of making it that easy. “The only way you’re getting it, is if you pry it from my cold dead fingers.”
His laugh was maniacal. “That won’t be a problem,” he snarled. Early morning sunlight bounced off the silver blade he withdrew from his pocket.
I watched as he tossed it from hand to hand, his brow cocked. Taking a step back, I set the bag on a stack of boxes next to the back-alley door leading into the store I’d just pilfered. The owner was too old and too slow to notice he’d dropped an item when the delivery truck left. Reaching into the back pocket of my jeans that had seen better days, I pulled out the makeshift knife I’d fashioned out of an old toothbrush and took a step forward.
“Plan on giving my teeth a good ol’ scrubbing with that?” Bobby laughed.
“Yeah. When I’m done spilling your blood, asshole,” I hissed.
“You’ve got balls.” Again, he laughed like a fucking hyena that just homed in on fresh meat.
“You have no idea.” I took another step forward. Anyone with a little more common sense would’ve hightailed it out of there. Good thing my lack thereof had served me well over the last couple of years. For one solid year, I’d been meek, a pushover until I met a man who’d taught me life was unfair. I had two options, let people take advantage of me or teach them that looks were deceiving, that I wasn’t the easy target they took me for. “Let’s dance.”
Bobby circled me, looking for a way in. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Ronny move. My arm shot out on reflex, catching him on the chin and unleashing a spray of blood. Howling, he stumbled backward. Bobby turned to look at his brother for just a second then lunged forward. While deflecting his knife with my free arm, I swung wide. The tip of my weapon pierced the skin on his side.
“Fuck,” he shrieked, jumping back. His dirty white shirt turned pink quickly.
“Not such a pussy, am I?” I smirked.
“You’re going to pay.” He clutched a hand to his side, the rage in his eyes igniting my bravado.
“Let’s get to it then, stop fucking around and make your point,” I goaded.
That seemed to irk him. His lips curled, he advanced. Legs a slow dance before his arm shot forward. I flinched, my teeth grinding when I felt his blade sink into my forearm, ripping flesh as he yanked downward. But, I didn’t give into the pain. Ignoring the blood drenching my skin as it oozed down my arm, I lashed out, sticking the tip of my weapon into his chest and pressing down with all my weight.
Inhaling harshly, he staggered backward, dropping his knife to clutch his chest. Fingers closing around the protruding stem of the brush, he yanked it out of his chest. Big mistake. Blood gushed from the open wound. His eyes, filled with undisguised terror, met mine. I waited until his knees buckled and he fell to the ground, his gaze still on me. Ronny scurried to his side.
“Bobby!” he screamed, lifting his brother’s head onto his lap. Bobby opened his mouth to speak. Instead, blood gurgled past his lips. “He’s dying.” Ronny lifted his gaze to my face, his expression pleading.
I should’ve felt remorse, but I couldn’t. Reaching for the bag, I withdrew a loaf of bread and broke off a piece. “You could’ve asked nicely, Bobby instead of demanding something that didn’t belong to you.” His vacant stare on me, I held out the bread to Ronny. He looked at it for a moment, the desperation on his face palpable in the way he licked his lips. “Take it. It might be your last meal for a while.” The look he gave me hinged between uncertainty and terror. He knew I was right. Without Bobby by his side, it wouldn’t be long before someone took advantage of his weakness. He reached up and took the piece. “He’s of no use to you now, Ronny. We both know the cops ain’t gonna do shit about this. The only title he’s likely to get, is John fucking doe. Walk away.”
Turning, I did the same before realization dawned and my slow steps morphed into a sprint. It was only after I cut through another four alleys, did I stop to catch my breath. Slowly I sank to the floor. Pulling my knees to my chin, I allowed the tears to fall. I stared at the remaining bread clutched in my tight fingers. My last meal consisting of half a Big Mac I’d rescued from a dumpster at a construction site, had been three days ago. I was no novice to hunger pains, I’d just learned to handle it over time, to savor the meals I found, making it last.
My gaze dropped to my bloodied forearm and my jaw stopped working the masticated bread in my mouth. I inspected the open wound, shaking my head. Cursing myself for allowing myself to get hurt. Nothing much affected me anymore. Not pain or assholes like Bobby or the biting cold, now swirling its way around me. Then I remembered the last look of horror on his face.
“Fuck!” I yelled into the empty alley. The sound bounced off the grimy walls and filth-stained windows.
I’d just killed a boy.
“Over a fucking loaf of bread,” I grunted. Hunger had the ability to cloud logic. “But I saw it first. It was mine before he came along,” I counted vehemently, my hungry stomach growling in agreement. My laugh was caustic. Even as I bit into another small piece and sluggishly chewed, I knew this would come back to haunt me. I was homeless, not fucking stupid. Karma was a bitch when you least expected it.
