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Word Count- 3,060
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{ TW: Violence }
***Thoughts are in italics
You know those films you watch, and all you can think is, "Fuck, that would be a hell of a life to live"? I have one of those lives. My childhood was something you'd think only happens in the movies. My mother Alyson had me when she was just eighteen years old. Now my father? Well, let's just say he wanted nothing to do with me and chose to leave my mother to raise me by herself, that is until she met Bill when I was only three. A year later they got married and had my brother, William. We all lived in a little beat-down green house surrounded by a chain-link fence, with houses that were essentially on top of each other throughout the neighborhood. The only word to truly describe where we lived is the ghetto.
Life was rough, but that doesn't mean I didn't have my fair share of fun. One memory that always stuck out was when a friend and I broke into our school and stole random supplies in the classrooms. It was fun up until the time we got caught by the cops. Let's just say my mother and Bill weren't too happy, especially since we may or may not have brought my five-year-old brother at the time.
Now, the other memory that sticks out isn't exactly the happiest. Every Friday my father, Bill, and I would go and do something together after I got out of school. I would wait about an hour or so for him to pick me up at home, then we would leave. This Friday was different. Over three hours had passed and he still hadn't shown up. I continued waiting until my aunt showed up and told me to get in the truck. It was then that she told me what happened.
Bill was at work when three men showed up and robbed the place. One of them started shooting, and Bill was the only one killed. Everything happened so fast. All I remember are the red and blue lights flashing all around us while my mother held on to my brother just staring into nothing. That was the day our lives changed. Not too long after, she had gotten money from his life insurance policy and bought a house out on the countryside. Something Bill had always wanted to do. After moving there, I was enrolled in the local high school, and we began a new life. I'm not sure when exactly it happened, but my mother became friends with a few members of the Hells Angels.
Soon enough they were always around, whether it be them crashing at our place, or drinking and having fun. It was always a pretty hectic environment to be around, but the chaos was something I soon began to crave. Being taught how to shoot guns, roll joints and sell them, riding motorcycles, hiding from the cops, people shooting other people. It wasn't healthy but fuck was it fun. The high it gave was so different from the one you get when smoking.
