My Life, My Choice, My Prison~A hit man story~BxB

Chapter 3

Brody’s Pov

The next couple of days I followed Fernando everywhere he went.

He seemed nervous, looking over his shoulders as if sensing me following him.

He kept glancing at his cellphone that was on his hand, and biting his bottom lip as if debating something.

But he would just shake his head no and shove it back in his pocket, what the hell was going on with this boy?

I sigh as I walked back to my rental, what was I doing? Why was I trying to find out Fernando’s information?

What if he was telling me the truth and he was really an exchange student, what if I really did make him nervous?

Why the fuck am I fucking second guessing my gut? ''Maybe because he's cute and you wish to bury yourself in that tight little as$ he has''. I groaned I hate my concious, and I hated myself more since lately i've been having sex dreams with Fernando in them and it was seriously fucking with my head.

Yes he was cute, but why now? Why do I find this particular boy cute, hot, sexy and worth the wet dreams I've been having.

Shaking my head no, I tried to focus on my concerns.

I’m always right and if I feel like Fernando is hiding something, then he just might be, no harm in looking in to.

I haven’t heard from Jared and that was worrying me, it’s been two days and usually he gets back to me on the same day.

I had extended my one week stay for a little longer just to check things out.

My parents were happy about the news but they still wanted to know why I wouldn’t go back to college, or what I did for a living.

I fought the urge to cringe every time Sebastian would ask me, what my job title was.

I need it to avoid those kinds of questions and get out of here before I caused more damage.

But I needed to check the mysterious Fernando before I move on.

I wanted to make sure everything was ok here, that my identity hadn’t been compromise.

I start the car and drove around town, everything has change so much since I left town to go to college.

I clenched my jaw tight as the memories tried to get out, but I suppress them and shove them back.

Just as I’ve been doing it for the past four years.

I saw a park and spotted my parents minivan, I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion as I pull over and parked next to them.

I’ve been avoiding them since that day that they had tried to make me go back to college.

I know they blamed themselves for what happen to me with the jocks, what they didn’t get was that it wasn’t their fault and I wasn’t like this because of the beating.

No it was because of how easy they got off, there I was standing with broken ribs, swollen eyes and my arm in a cast and the jury dismissed me and the judge said ‘boys will be boys’.

That still irked me, I never blamed my parents, and hell I didn’t even blame the jocks.

No I blamed the system, the cops, the jury, and the judge, I wanted to be a criminal lawyer and put bastards like my biological father in jail.

Then gay bashers beat me and then get away with it, destroying everything I believed in.

So I decided to take the law into my own hands and put the bad apples in the trash.