Story #31

The phone rang.

“11pm. 54th & Condor.” *click*

I cocked my gun and placed it in the holster disguised by my jacket. The man in the corner whined, trying his best to squeeze his hands out of the cuffs. I placed a finger over the gag & rope covering his mouth. “Shhhh…” Tears streamed down his cheeks, but he didn’t make a sound. “Good boy. If I see anyone snooping around because you made a noise, I’ll murder your whole family. I know where you live. Nod if you understand.” The man nodded.

Within 15 minutes I was at the drop. There was only one dim streetlight. Very few cars passed, but none of them stopped. It was a Tuesday so I didn’t expect much traffic, especially at this time of night. I turned off my car and squatted next to it. A car with its lights off slowly pulled up to the corner.

A man in a hoodie got out of the car and started walking forward. I could tell that it was Domingo, the bodyguard, by the way he walked. When he got closer I stood up and pointed my gun at his forehead. He quickly reached for the weapon at his hip, but I was faster. I shot him once in the stomach and a second time in the forehead. The giant, muscular man fell back with a loud thud.

I started running towards the car to shoot anyone else that was in there. I threw open the door and my son threw his hands uo and walked out the car.

“Dad, you’re making a mistake. They’ll kill me AND you if you take me away. I’ll just go to Hugo and tell him Domingo was shot by a druggie. You have to leave now!”

My son, the thug. It hurt to see him like this. His pupils were dilated, most likely from whatever his gang was selling. He waved me away. I refused to move.

“Get the fuck out of here, old man,” a voice behind me said.

I slowly turned to see some skinny thug pointing a gun at my head. “Listen to your bitch ass son. Drop your weapon before you get hurt.” I turned back to my son, who mouthed the word go. I shook my head and walked back to my car.

When I got back to my basement, the man I was holding hostage was gone. The cuffs were still locked, which meant he broke his hand or something of that nature to get free. I examined every aspect of my house, but found no one. I sat on the edge of my bed, hunched over, and cried. Everything would have been different if my wife was still alive. The only reason Frank, my son, joined that stupid gang is because he was lost without his mother. I crawled into bed and fell asleep in my pool of tears.

Around 4am a loud bang was heard at my door. Startled, I grabbed my gun and slowly made my way to the front door. When I opened it, my son’s limp body laid on my doorstep covered in blood. His face was so swollen he was hardly recognizable. A car facing the door turned on its lights and sped away. I dropped to my knees and held my son for the first time in months. I cried for what felt like hours before I decided what to do next. My son’s blood stained my dirty hands as I grabbed my guns and filled my car. I didn’t care what it would take. Evedy single one of those fuckers had a death wish and I was coming to grant it.

I’ve been watching a LOT of Breaking Bad.

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