Prima Facie ✔️

Gangbanger - 1

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Arlie's POV.

I knock on the door, feeling all kinds of nervous. It's been so long, I hope he is excited to see me. I wish I could have called first and warned him that I was coming, but he's changed his number. Maybe I should have written a letter, that could have given him time to process this.

No, Arlie, you have every right to be here.

I straighten my shoulders and brace myself for whatever he throws at me. The door swings open and Jamal looks vacantly back at me. It takes a second for recognition to process. His eyebrows raise in surprise and then draw together in confusion.

"Arlena? W-what are you doing here?"

He looks different. Older. Much older. It breaks my heart to see it. My big brother really is big now.

"Hey, bro," I reply, giving him a half-hearted smile. "How are you?"

"Arlie," he says my name as his eyes dart from left to right in the corridor. "Seriously, what are you doing here?"

"What's going on? Are you okay?" I ask curiously, intrigued by his reaction.

"Get inside."

He grabs my arm and pulls me in, quickly closing the door behind us. The flat isn't anything special. There is a sofa in front of an old TV, the cushions have lost their shape and spring, it looks well-used. There are empty cans and crisp packets on the threadbare rug. The kitchen needs a renovation but it looks clean enough. There are two crates of beer on top of the fridge.

"What are you doing here?" He asks for the millionth time.

I gesture to the suitcase at my side. "I'm here to move in, like we agreed."

His eyes bug out of his head. "Five years ago, Arlie!"

"No, we discussed this two years ago, remember? You came to visit when you were nineteen."

He looks stressed as he drags his hand through his hair. "That was a lifetime ago, Arlena, you can't move in here! Christ, if anyone sees you've come here..."

"What do you mean if anyone sees? Who is watching you?" My stomach flips queasily. "Oh no, Jamal, you're not in trouble with the police are you? Not again?"

"Not them," he hisses, looking around like he's working out a plan. "You can't stay here."

"I'm eighteen now, Jamal. I have nowhere else to go, this is the only place I have."

"You can't stay here!"

I feel my anger flaring at his reaction. "This is my place too, Jamal! Mum left it to both of us, remember? My name is on the deed, too. I have every right to stay here."

"Look, I'll send you money or something okay? But you gotta get out of here, you can't stay, it's not safe."

I give him an exasperated look. "Not safe? What are you talking about?"

"It doesn't matter, alright? You can't stay, it's not happening," he blurts and grabs my suitcase, wheeling it back to the door. "Go to a hotel or something for tonight, I can send you money. You need to get on a train or bus or however you got here and go back from wherever you came from."

I shove him back from my suitcase and snatch it off him. "No fucking way, Jamal. I came from the foster house! I can't go back there, I'm eighteen now, they kicked me out. I don't have a home! I don't understand, you're my brother, why are you acting like this?"