N0 B0DY, N0 CRIM3 | Bang Chan

Prologue

A/N: Trigger warning for gun violence. 

_ _ _

"I've had it! I'm done!" 

"You can't just take him and fucking leave! He's my son too!" 

"Your son? And just what the fuck have you done for your son? Fuck you! You didn't carry him around for nine months! You don't care about him and you're never here! You're too busy going out and doing god knows what for god knows who! You're wanted by the cops for murder!" 

A counter top rattled as the man's fist was brought down. Ringed knuckles created a loud clang on impact. "I'm creating an empire and building a goddamn legacy! Why can't you understand that? I'm doing this for him!" 

"My son isn't going to grow up being groomed by a fucking criminal!" 

Eleven year old Christopher Bang laid silently in his darkened bedroom. The paper thin walls of their one-story house couldn't keep him from his parents and their arguments. Lately, they had been happening more and more. Not wanting to get involved, all he could do was stay in his room and pretend they weren't happening. 

No matter how much he tried to block them out, he never could. And the worst part? They were always about him. His parents fought over him like a cat and dog. One wanted him to grow up one way and the other wanted him to be different. He wished they would let him choose, but they never did. 

"You're too young, you don't understand how the real world works." That's what his father had told him over and over again. 

Anger built up in his veins every time he thought about it. Sure, he might have been young, he wasn't even a teenager yet. However, that didn't mean he was clueless about everything. He knew the difference between right and wrong. The difference between good and evil. It wasn't hard to see that his father was in the wrong. 

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" His mom's voice grew louder. 

He yanked the pillow from beneath his head and clamped it down over his ears. Squeezing his eyes shut, he pushed the worn cotton against his head. He bit down on his lower lip to keep the tears at bay. Anxiety brewed deep in his gut. These arguments had never ended well. 

He tried to focus on steadying his uneven breaths. In and out. In and out. In and out. Inhale while counting to four. Do it again while exhaling. In and out. In and out. 

Inhale: 

One Mississippi. 

His heart pounded in his chest. 

Two Mississippi. 

The blood roared in his ears. 

Three Mississippi.

"Put it away! Stop it! Stop!" 

Four Mississippi. 

Exhale: 

One Mississippi. 

Bang! 

The loud sound caused him to rip the pillow off his head and quickly sit up. He faced his closed bedroom door with wide eyes. He held his breath and waited for something to happen, but nothing did. An eerie silence filled the air. Swallowing his fear, his bare feet hit the rugged carpet. 

Tiptoeing, he forced himself to open his bedroom door. He stuck his head out and glanced in the direction of the kitchen. That's where all of the arguments had occurred. He'd get home from school via the bus and be greeted by his mother when he walked inside. She'd greet him with a hug, a kiss, and she'd usually have an after school snack she'd prepared.