All That Glitters

The Answer

Tw: graphic depictions of violence, blood, descriptions of self harm

(To skip self harm, stop reading at "Don't come back 'till you have my money!" He shouted.
Start reading again at "John B stifled a sob.")

John B didn't pass out. Not while engulfed by Kie and JJ's arms. He wanted to. God , did he want to.

Especially when his mind wandered towards JJ's past. Specifically, the one question he'd wanted to ask for years but was too afraid JJ would freeze up and end up not telling him everything. Like, of course he knew bits and pieces but... never the whole truth.

It made him feel sick seeing JJ so young again. As an observer of the past against his conscious will.

—

Approx. five years before

Stale beer and the stench of mold that had been covered up at least once with one of those room sprays wafted throughout the old house.

A small figure, JJ, still only twelve years old, was busy trying his best to figure out how to get the DVD player to work on his dad's massive television. Like seriously big. The thing must've weighed as much as him if not more. Only the sound of static and JJ's relentless determination echoing through the dingy walls.

He flinched when the front door flung open. The crack of a screen door his dad had yet to fix slammed against the door stopper. Tentative hands dropped whatever tools he'd been messing with.

"Where's Luke?" An unfamiliar voice huffed out. You could practically hear the disgusted scowl that was etched into his cheeks.

"Dunno. Said he was out." JJ replied. Knowing his dad wouldn't have wanted him to snitch.

"Do you know when he's gonna be back?"

"Nah. Never tells me shit. I don't ask." And really he should've been more scared in this situation. Considering the only people that ever came for his dad either wanted to make his nose bleed or " steal" what little money Luke managed to leave scattered about the house.

"Musta left you here to take his punishment, then. He must be so proud to have such an obedient little dog."

"The fuck you calling a dog?" JJ squeaked out in his hasn't-quite-hit-puberty voice.

For real, JJ should've been more concerned out the gate that someone was at his house while his dad was off at some bar trying to get rich off the other Kooks on the island. Especially when the motherfucker sneered and then lept for JJ.

"I ain't against roughing up his boy if it means I'm getting paid still. What do you say?" JJ really should've braced himself for what was happening. Because all at once, he had a knife at his throat.

Now, JJ was no stranger to having knives at his neck before. Courtesy of a few other members of the younger generation of Maybanks. So it wasn't like he couldn't find his way out of it. Which is why he wasn't scared yet. This had all happened before. Except, then, it had been dulled butter knives and now it was a switchblade the size of his forearm. Still he managed to turn the tables. Like always.

"You're just like your daddy. Slippery little eel. Thieving sonovabitch aren't cha?" Because JJ had the knife in his hand. Standing over the man that had underestimated him. A twisted smile crawling up the lines of his face as JJ held the knife out over him. Not quite sure what to do now since his cousins had the sense to stop once they lost.

"I'm not. Just leave." JJ threw the knife off into the kitchen over the coffee table he'd balanced the DVD player on.

"I'll leave when his debt is paid." The man scoffed and stood up, knocking JJ over with his hand. JJ fought back. Hard.