Raised in a Gang

Chapter 4

Ray POV

"Back off of her!" I yelled, pushing my father away from my defenseless mother.

He was drunk again. When my father gets drunk, he's abusive. He usually takes it out on my mom and younger brothers, maybe because they're weaker and smaller. By this point, I refused to call him my father. He hasn't deserved that title. He's more like scum on the bottom of your shoe. He always thought I was kiddin' when I tell him back off my mom, but he never listens until I kick his ass. He's usually too drunk to remember anything and it happens again and again. My mom always forgave him before now. I hoped this time would be different since he beat her so bad, she's lying unconscious on the floor. That's when I step in to protect her and end this madness.

"Shut up! You're not even worth the fight. I don't know why she never got the damn abortion when I told her." Anger rises in his eyes and he raised his hand up before swinging. I stumble backwards and hold my face with my hand. "You're the reason why my life is hell!"

I groan and fall back as his large hands push me down. He climbed on top of my body and slugged me a good couple times, each time grunting from exhaustion.

I had two choices, stay and take the beating, or defend myself and kick his ass. Me being me, I chose choice 2.

I raised my hand, catching his next swing and squeezed the fist in my hand. He groaned in pain as I flipped us over so I was over him. I swung a couple times to his face before releasing his fist from my grasp. I gave him another good swing before climbing off of him and giving him a chance to stand to his feet. I like fighting fair, never giving an unfair chance for my opponent.

He stood but wobbled around a bit before charging towards me. I dodged his punch and twisted his arm behind his body and pressing him against the walls.

"Go and never come back!" I hissed in his ear.

I pushed him towards the door and released him. He obeyed my commands and scurried out the house.

That was my last memory of my father...

I woke up in a cold sweat with the thought of my alcoholic "father" running through my mind. How could I allow him to hurt my mom like that all these years. I was only fifteen when this all happened, not long ago considering I'm seventeen now.

The scary part about the dream...was that it was all too real. The only misleading part of the actual situation was the picture frame. The frame that showed a happy family. The frame that sat on the coffee table the entire dream. We never had a frame on the coffee table. We had a statuette of an African woman holding a basket above her head.

A strong African woman...

I yelled in frustration before grabbing the first thing in my reach and chucking it across the room to the opposite wall.

The anger running through my body was soon replaced with pain. I had forgotten about the slit on my side from earlier.

In case you're wondering what the hell happened earlier, I got into a fight with some kid from the MSFTS. I hated unfair fights but I guess that kid favored it since he brought out a knife and stabbed me. It wasn't deep enough to be an emergency but was a good enough reason to go to Tyra's house.

I said I wanted to be sure she was okay because we were actually fighting over her. The kid said Jaden had his eyes on her and when he saw us talking yesterday in the Supermarket, he had to make it clear that she was Property of Jaden Smith. I always had a fetish for disobeying rules, signs, and commands, so I had to take a stand. Besides, I knew Tyra was different than the rest and I wasn't going to let her get dragged into Jaden's shit because he wanted a quick fuck 'n duck. It was the usual with him and I refuse to have Tyra become a victim of his premature, insensitive, womanizing games. I could just tell by the way she walked, the way she talked, the way she behaved that she was not just another girl from Compton. She was completely different.