UNRAVELING AMAYA.

13

As I approached my apartment building, a sense of contentment washed over me. Thoughts of Ryan lingered in my mind, his insistence that I stay for another two days playing on a loop. Despite the late hour, I couldn't help but smile at the memory of our time together. His warm embrace, the sound of his laughter, the way his eyes lingered on me when he spoke—all of it made me feel alive in a way I hadn't felt in a long time.

However, my smile quickly faded when I saw Adrian slumped against the wall near my front door. The sight of him, bloodied and bruised, sent a surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins. My heart skipped a beat as I rushed to his side, my mind racing with a million questions.

"Adrian!" I cried out, dropping to my knees beside him. "What happened?"

He groaned in pain, his eyes fluttering open to meet mine. "Creekwood niggas," he managed to gasp out. "They... they got me on the way over." Blood pooled on the floor as I examined his head—it was obvious he'd been hit with something hard.

A cold dread settled over me at his words, my mind racing with fear and anger. Without hesitation, I helped him to his feet and guided him down to my car. The short drive to the hospital felt like an eternity, each passing moment filled with worry and uncertainty.

In the emergency room, the urgency was palpable. Adrian's condition was far more serious than I initially thought. The doctors rushed him into surgery, their faces grim with concern as they wheeled him away.

As I stood there, watching them disappear behind the swinging doors, a wave of fear washed over me. Adrian's life hung in the balance, and there was nothing I could do but wait until morning came around.

The hospital room felt stifling, the air heavy with unspoken tension as we gathered around Adrian's bedside. My mother stood beside me, her touch gentle as she tried to offer reassurance, while my father paced the room, muttering under his breath.

"It's going to be okay," she said softly, her voice soothing as she reached out to touch my arm.

I shrugged off her touch, unable to shake the simmering anger that bubbled just beneath the surface. "I don't want to hear it, Mom," I muttered, my voice terse.

As I sat beside Adrian's hospital bed, I wondered how the hell did we all get here—it was odd to think that we'd been a family once. The kind of family who had Sunday dinners, went to movies, hosted cookouts and slept in the same bed together. It was odd to remember how much we'd all adored each other.

My mother hovered anxiously nearby, her stance defensive as she watched over Adrian, while my father continued pacing back and forth, his expression dark with disapproval. "He wouldn't be in this bullshit if he'd just followed through with joining the Navy like he was supposed to," He complained aloud. "But no, he had to go off and do his own thing, get mixed up with this stupid shit."

My mother bristled at his words, her defenses rising in a silent protest. "Adrian has his own path to walk, Thomas. You can't force him to be something he's not."

My father snorted derisively. "Path? No, no, no. This isn't a goddamn path. This is a downward spiral into chaos and destruction! I'm sick of it, always getting into trouble over something stupid like money, a girl, or fucking drugs."

My mother's eyes flashed with anger, her voice trembling with emotion. "Don't you dare speak about him like that. He's your son, and he needs our support now more than ever."

My father rounded on her, his face contorted with frustration. "Support? What kind of support did you give him when you walked out on us? You abandoned your own children, and now you want to play the role of the doting mother?"