While having just been released from prison, due to a night full of misfortunate mistakes, Red McCoy witnesses an old friend of his, son being kicked out of his apartment in the middle of the night.
Beverly Reid had been living on his own since he...
| B E V A N D R E D | • • • | N I C K O L A S J A M E S M C C O Y |
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Growing up, I had always considered myself the middle child. Sure, that wasn't exactly true, but I still couldn't stop the thought from resurfacing. My brother and I had always been close, the two of us effectively leaving my younger brother, Cole to eat rocks.
My mother had spent hours of most of our days consoling Cole. And considering how many mental issues he'd conjured over the years, I understood.
I understood that he needed her more than I, or any of my other siblings ever would. But that didn't stop me from holding even the least bit of resentment toward her.
My younger years went by slowly, me spending day after day in sports I didn't understand, nor did I care much for them. I had always joined them because of my big brother, Matthew.
He had been the one who told me just how amazing sports were. This began when he turned thirteen, and I had turned ten—we would spend hours on end, laughing and sharing war stories about practice.
"Just wait until middle school," he'd say, "Coach Riggs will drive you wild, with all the suicides and shit."
I remember smiling, my lips curling in excitement at being able to somewhat relate to my big brother. I had even began swearing on Matt's accord, him being completely proud of me.
Well, this had went on until my fifteenth birthday approached, me still having entire clue about anything, failing almost every class, and still an utmost virgin.
There was one, quiet, blistering night, where me, and all of my siblings were awakened at the sound of sharp knocking. Matthew looked over to me from his bed, eyes wide and fearful.
Beneath the door, I could see the dim lighting of the hallway, and the unfamiliar padding of someone's clad boots. Our bedroom's door was suddenly kicked open by a man in dark attire, a gun in hand.
My heart had frozen, and Matthew had instinctively thrown his hands into the air as a surrendering gesture, shouting at me to do the same.
When I had reciprocated, the officer shot forward, and began to handcuff my big brother.
The same big brother who I had looked up to since I was practically born, and the same big brother who I wanted to be exactly like. But at this time, the only thing that flooded my brain was questions.
What had he done? How long would he be away? And why did he do what he did?
The officer recited the same line of wording I had heard on television, but never thought I would have to endure in real life, as my brother sat there and took it.
