Once I walked into the building used to house the families of the upper gang members I regretted it. Why didn’t I use the back way? After being bombarded with questions of the wives, girlfriends and daughters of the members I had to leave Chris to them and retreated to my room. After tossing my bag, jacket and ruined shirt on the floor I laid back on my bed. I wonder why she got into a fight with them? The only thing I was grateful for was that she was knocked out and didn’t see me upset. I want her to know me as her summative little brother Patch. She would probably try and pick a fight with me to test my strength, and I didn’t want to bother with that. I turned in my bed to face the wall.
My room was a dull blue color, with a slanted white ceiling. I had a desk, bed and some simple furniture you would usually see in a teens room. Everyone in the house lived simply and respected the space of others, getting at most three bedrooms for each family. The building was an old mansion that my mother bought after making several business deals with the members of the gang. It could house about fifty people, even though only half that amount lived there. The most impressive part of the house, besides it could actually function, was that basement was immense. We used the basement to house criminals and to train.
If you think about it our “gang” isn’t really a gang. We don’t sell drugs, women or anything extremely illegal and we don’t kill people unless there is absolutely no other way to survive. I could still remember my mother flicking my forehead and telling me to listen to her. She told me everything is precious because it has a purpose on the earth. She valued life more than most people would guessed. If there was ever a member that killed she would listen to his story and determine whether they were in the right or wrong.
My door slammed open, interrupting my thoughts, and the leader of the gang stomped in. “Patch!” He yelled at the opening of my room. I turned over and looked at him. “What happened to my daughter?!” Will’s face was red as a cherry, ready to bust with the slightest squeeze. As my mother’s best friend and second in the gang, he had been promoted after she died, he also acted as my parent. With him in charge we have actually lowered the amount of gang activity in the area.
“All I know is that a group of guys did it.” I said slowly, hoping to calm him down. My body slowly got up from the comfort of my bed and I walked over to him. “I scared them and they left her. I’m not going to make a huge deal out of it until she wakes up.” I felt a hard force against the left side of my face and fell down onto the hardwood floor. As I looked up a put together what had happened, I stood. “I never figured you to be right handed, always so quirky.” My eye twitched and I walked past him holding the left side of my face.
The left side of my face burned as I walked out of my room into the bathroom. I looked into the shiny mirror to see myself. The place where Will struck my was bright red and just looking worse the more I stared at it. I took a moment and really looked at myself, something I haven’t done in a while. Chris was right, the only thing I had alike to my mother was our emerald eyes. I had black hair, thin, lanky, tan and tall. She had blonde hair, athletic, pale and a bit short. My hand touched the cool glass of the mirror covering the injured spot.
I always wondered why I was here. For what purpose was I created? Who am I really? I could feel rage build up in my stomach as I continued thinking about my mother’s decisions. If I wasn’t born her life wouldn’t have been as screwed up. She would be alive and not rotting in the ground. It really disturbed me that nobody outside of the circle of the gang even cared she died. This wonderful person was murdered yet she was treated with no respect.
A warm trickle of liquid ran down my hand, it was then that I realized that I broke the mirror. I barely saw a figure to the left of me, as my eye had swollen partially shut. “O my goodness Patch!” A female voice called out to me. She ran to my side and I saw that it was Lori, Will’s wife and Chris’s mother. “What made you do that!? What is your face like that?!” I just smiled and removed my hand from the mirror, shards stuck out of it. “Let me fix you up.” She said waving for me to follow her.
I just smiled slightly and follow her in short strides. Lori was an Italian woman, her age was always a mystery to me. She was usually upbeat and loving to everyone in the house, because of all the wounds most of the members got Lori took it upon herself to become our personal nurse. She’s no doctor but at least she knows her way around a busted body. The only fault I found with her was that she despised my mother and would put her down at any chance she got. It’s strange because my mother was the reason why Will married Lori. My mother threatened to beat him to a pulp if he didn’t take care of her newborn daughter.
Lori strutted down the stairs while I wandered behind her like a lost dog. We entered one of the many living rooms in the house. This one was used for a makeshift sickbay, others were used for a gathering hall and a daycare. I could see Chris already laid on a cot with her eyes wide open and eyebrows knitted together. Lori made me sit on a soft dining chair and proceeded to start picking shards of glass from my hand with a small pair of tweezers. Blood covered my school slacks and the plain black tank I usually wore under my dress shirts. I was going to have to get some new clothes, I could just ask someone else to do it instead of wasting my time. As I ignoring the pain of the glass pulling at my skin, I looked at my mothers locket shimmering under the light. I wonder what’s inside of it. “I should’ve won. Maddy would have won.”
I was pulled away from my thoughts and sent a glance over to Chris. “It was five guys with a knife. I doubt she could have won either. Don’t compare yourself to my mother.” My voice came out colder than I intended, I noticed only when Lori paused when fishing glass out of me. Chris looked a bit stunned that I responded that way.
“Well she took over a gang when she was sixteen, two months pregnant and the only person helping was dad. She beat over thirty people in less than an hour.” Chris yelled at me and began to start crying. “How? How could I ever become the Tigress of this gang?!” She buried her busted face in her knees.
The Tigress was the title of the strongest woman in the White Tiger Streak gang. My mom always had an abnormal attachment to tigers, she was impressed that the women did most of the hunting and they depended on themselves. I could remember her telling me she felt like a tigress after she was kicked out of her home, and that’s the reason why she fought, fought for her survival.
I sighed and looked back at the mess of my hand. “From what I remember her telling me Chris, she didn’t go out and pick fights. She chose her fights and her life was on the line. My life as well, if she got kit in the stomach once I wouldn’t be here right now.” I swallowed, just thinking about it freaked me out. “She also said that she look expensive self defence classes since she could walk. It’s not like you will never surpass her. You just need to train more. You’re only seventeen, don’t go out and try to kill yourself.” I spat the last sentence at her, she knew how I felt about random acts of violence. They were unneeded, unnecessary and unwanted.
Lori interrupted the somber conversation. “I’ll start stitching you up, Patch.” She leaned over to retrieve a needle and medical thread and went to town on the side of my hand and the palm. “By the way Christina, did you get yourself a boyfriend yet? If you keep getting into fights you will get scars all over that pretty face I gave you!” I cracked a smile and Chris frowned, but the mood was lightened. I listened to the ladies pester Chris about boys and relationships. Women are indeed frightening when they want something.
