Why is it always me who gets the tough breaks? A young teen ran his fingers through his silk black hair. Muffling a few unmentionable words, he kicked a small pebble as he shuffled along a dirt covered path. Who knew that the forest could be so peaceful? Especially at the break of dawn. The scent of pine tickled his nose and made his eyes water.
A crack of a twig made him jump, but figuring it was nothing, he continued. His goal was to get as deep into the forest as possible before noon. When was noon? He glanced down at his wrist. "A freckle past a hair."
He sighed, having remembered that he lost his beloved watch in a gamble about two days prior to now.
A large tree branch nearly decapitated him as he looked up, but ducked, luckily, just in time. The soothing sound of cicada's and crickets calmed his mental rage and he stopped for a little while to rest. He closed his eyes and fell into a deep slumber filled with memories...
"Steve, what are you doing here?" A middle aged woman's heart skipped a beat as she stepped out of her apartment room.
" I just thought I'd come and visit with you for a while, Gran." Steve smiled and pushed back a strand of black and blue hair. Gran stepped aside and let him in. As she went into the kitchen and grabbed some iced tea, he sank into a small sofa.
"Gran, I need a favor. I know you well enough, I hope, that you will keep a secret for me, right?" Steve gave a hopeful glance at his grandmother who sat across from him. She looked him strait into his deep brown eyes and seeming concerned, said, "You didn't do something, did you now, Steve?" Her normally soft and sweet eyes turned hard and bitter.
" Well, not exactly... I mean, it ain't a terrible doing, to punch a guy and leave him laying, is it? I mean, like, outa self defense."
The bitterness turned to a fiery blaze, Gran's green eyes literally tinted with color of fire. Gritting her teeth, she hissed, "If you want my money, son, you can't have it. I don't give away loot to crime doers."
Steve rolled his eyes and stared down at the large cut running across his palm. He had injured his hand while jumping out of a window at a friends house. He jumped from three stories high and landed on his feet.
"Gran, I ain't no criminal. I told you, it was out of self defense. Them guys was trying to cut me with a butcher knife!" Tears started welling up in his eyes and he fought to hold them back. "They was gonna kill me!"
"Well, son, that completely changes my perspective of things! Why didn't you just say so in the first place?" The fiery blaze in Gran's eyes calmed and she stood, walking to the kitchen. She returned holding a parcel wrapped in brown paper. She handed it to Steve. "Take care of them. They were your grandfathers."
Steve took the parcel and opened it. Inside was a shotgun and a switchblade, not to mention some ammo for the gun. "But, Gran, I ain't have a license to carry a gun!"
"Pshhhhh, then go get one!" She placed her hand on her hips and smiled. "Take the money off the table and get outa here. That should keep you going for a while."
Steve rose and stuffing the money in his pockets, opened the door and left.
While walking through the parking lot he heard a sound that he had only heard in his worst nightmares. A blood curdling scream and a loud bang corresponded to each other only leaving one explanation.
Not thinking, Steve dropped the parcel and dashed into the apartment complex and up the stairs. He stopped when he got to the corner of the second floor hallway, glancing around to make sure the coast was clear. Gran's apartment door was wide open, but she wasn't in there. Eyes wide open, he turned slowly around and looked down. Across from Gran's apartment was the elevator. There, she lay, covered in blood, curled up in a little ball as if trying to shield something. That was it. She was gone.
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