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and in my mind, i'm a blind man doing time.
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"Tell me about yourself?"
"Whatcha wanna know?'
"Everything..."
When Fezco was younger he'd spend most of his days at his father's club, it was the place he was most at when he wasn't in school. He'd spend most of the longing hours tucked away in a dimly lit booth away from all that was happening.
It wasn't the best place to raise a little boy, but with his mother not being in the picture and his dad not really caring for him there was really no other place to go. Except when his Grandma would pick him up from school and would dedicate an hour to two on making sure he was fed and well taken care of.
His Grandma was the only person that actually scared his father— well maybe not scared him but he definitely moved differently when he knew she was coming over or when Fezco would go with her. He knew she wasn't the woman to be messed with.
His father wasn't someone he really knew past him being his dad and the same went for his father. He thought of Fezco as a road bump, or like a smell he couldn't get rid of. He knew that when the day came he'd teach Fezco the business but for that time a child had no meaning to him.
Sometimes Fezco would imagine he was anyone else, when the club darkened and the random men came in, when his father would smack him and curse at him for being in the way... He'd think about his mother— the little he could remember. He'd think of her humming as she held him, her ginger long hair in his face making him laugh. His grandma didn't like talking about her and in a way it was for the best, he didn't know if she was alive or dead and he preferred it that way. He didn't need to know nor did he want to.
He was grateful for his grandma, he would never take that back. He did what he did and he'd do it again for her. He listened to her every word and he really listened, some things more than others.
