The Gang and his Girl

Chapter 1: Five Years Later

"Will!"

Sirens whirled through air that was so frigid, you could see your breath with every exhale. The cold slowed everything down, setting a filter of surrealism over the reality of what had happened.

"Will! Willem, baby please! Wake up. Please!"

Police speaking over intercoms; the wails of an ambulance in the distance...none of it felt real. The bullet shells all over the ground, the bodies that piled up. Even the glass shattered all over the road, that I could feel digging into my knees, registered no pain. The entirety of my focus was on the man in front of me, his beautiful face covered in blood, his eyes closed, and mouth unresponsive.

"No, no, no...Willem..."

Someone was speaking to me, I knew that much, but my mind wasn't computing what was being said.

They didn't matter.

"Willem? Oh, God..."

Hands on my shoulder jerked me to my surroundings, and I turned, swinging.

The officer stopped my arm before it could make contact, and grabbed my wrist in a vice grip.

"No!" I screamed, fighting against him, "Let go of me! Willem!"

"The paramedics need to do their job, Miss! Please!"

I struggled against him until he was forced to press me into the side of his cruiser, "Calm down."

When I stopped moving, he released me, and I nearly crumbled. Everything happened so fast. What should have been a simple race turned into a full on gang fight.

"He was bleeding so much," I whispered out loud to no one in particular, tears racing down my cheeks, "And he wouldn't open his eyes. He wouldn't...oh God."

Beep

Beep

Bee-

I woke up with cold sweats, gasping as the vivid dream faded from my memory. I groan, rubbing my eyes to relive the sleep from them. Fucking hell. I slam my hand down on the alarm clock that woke me from that horrible memory on the fifth year anniversary of it. Fate always has a weird way of showing.

And here's another-

"Mommy! Mommy!" A four year old child's voice yells as it jumps onto my bed. He laid on top of me, looking at me with a face of wonder.

"Morning, Grayson" I told my son, brushing away the hairs that had fallen in his face. "Are you excited for today?"

Grayson Willem Arrowood, son of Willem Arrowood and myself, Logan Arrowood. Life hadn't been easy those last five years following the gang war. But I had gotten an amazing baby boy out of it. And I love him more than anyone in the whole world.

"I'm so pswyched for camp, Mommy" He says smirking. I smiled at him, sadness behind it.

Karate camp, he's going to karate camp that he begged me to go to. My son is more like his father than I would like to admit: His tousled raven locks, urge to fight, appreciation for sports cars at a young age, his smirk that replaces his smile, his cockiness, confidence, and my least but most favorite, his piercing blue eyes.

"That's great, baby." I say ruffling his hair. "Why don't you go get dressed in the outfit we picked out last night, and get your lunch box out from the cabinet?"

"Will do Mommy!" He says grinning as he jumps off the bed, running out the room.

I watch him run out of my bedroom. Once I hear his door slam, I decide to get out of bed.