No One's Point of View:
As the police officers raided the entire house trying to find any clues that tied the boys to the warehouse bombings, Justin was brought into the kitchen by Officer Bentley. "Sit," He ordered as he stood, leaning against the counter. His face was solemn almost sympathetic even making the situation all the more tense as Justin did as he was told though he fought the urge to throw a tantrum.
This was the last thing he needed and Justin cursed the day they ever left Barbados to come back to this hell hole. He knew something was waiting for them when they came back and he was right—he always was.
"Listen here son—"
"I'm not your son," Justin spat, his eyes heavy with anger.
"It's called figure of speech," Bentley snipped, his eyes piercing through his in a way that told him that if he didn't stay quiet there would be consequences.
"Just tell me what the hell you're all here for," Justin leaned back against the stool, kicking his legs up as he held his hands locked behind his head. "You guys are starting to bore me with the same old crap."
"If I were you, I'd watch your mouth around me Bieber. One wrong thing and I can and will have you locked up." He threatened darkly, "I'm here to help. Hell, if I know why but I—we all—know those bombings weren't just a local set up. This was retaliation towards your group."
"You know shit," Justin hissed. He wasn't going to back down especially to some cop who could twist his words around. That's all they were ever good at—tricking you to benefit them. He'd seen it happen one too many times before and he refused to believe anything that was coming out of Bentley's mouth.
"I know that Lyndon is the leader of the Snipers. He's been in town for quite some time now ever since you came back. We've seen enough gang wars in our lifetime to know that they're not just here to check the place out. They want what you have." Bentley cocked his head to the side, his eyes narrowed in a scrutinizing manner, almost as if he were checking to see if he could find answers within Justin's behavior. But, he didn't give anything away. "You own quite some property around here Justin; places that they want to call their own."
"And your point here is..." Justin gestured with his hands for him to continue.
"My point here is," Shoving Justin's feet down from the counter, Bentley got in his face, leaving a few inches in between. "That if Lyndon Mathews turns up dead, you're going to jail." He spoke with such confidence it brought an unnatural chill down Justin's back.
Licking his lips, Justin shrugged, "And what makes you think it would be me that'll get him killed?"
"Because we all know you here Justin, you and your group are known for your constant need for power and the moment a threat comes to play, you have to get rid of it." Bentley crossed his arms against his chest, his eyes never once straying from Justin's.
Justin didn't say much as he pressed his lips together, swallowing down the bile that forced itself up. He wasn't going to show it but he knew that Bentley was right. He knew more than he should and it worried Justin.
Not wanting to give anything away, Justin sat up, leaning his elbows on his knees as he looked up at him through his lashes. "If Lyndon dies, it could be an accident, maybe even another gang member wanting a go at the so-called competition."
Bentley didn't say anything for what felt like hours as he blinked a few times before letting out a sharp laugh, one that pierced through Justin's ears. "You and I both know that's a cold hard lie."
