Anger Management- Euphoria

eighteen

I couldn't stay the night with Fez after seeing Nate again, not ever been that close again. Even though nothing happened, I felt really dirty, like I had committed a crime. These feelings were really fucking stupid considering that Fez and I weren't even official but it still felt wrong on all levels. 

I tried not to think too much about it, this was just Nate playing his games. I invited Kat to stay with me but she said she had to get home. I walked inside my house alone. 

My mother was sitting at the kitchen table, a gun was pressed against her temple. She didn't seem phased. The guy holding the gun looked fucking scary. His hair was covered by a beanie but it didn't hide his tattoos that spread all over his neck and his face. I froze, expecting the door closing to draw his attention. 

"Welcome home, little Rosalyn." another man said, the gunman's eyes not glancing toward me. "Come have a seat next to your mother." 

The man who spoke wasn't covered in tattoos or holding a gun. He was wearing a nicely tailored suit and expensive shoes. He was old enough to be my dad, maybe thirty-five. His hair was dark brown but his eyes were black. His expression was plain and calm but his eyes were filled with hate. 

My stomach rolled. I didn't hesitate to listen to his instructions. This night was taking a fucking turn. The tip of the black pistol not leaving the side of my mom's head. What was happening? And why was my mother so chill about it. I was freaking out. I felt my hands shaking under the table. 

"I'm so sorry to involve you Slyvia. I have no problem with you, but your husband...well he ran off with something that belongs to me." The man said. He folded his hands in front of him. His posture was next to perfect. 

What did my dad take? Candie? Was she this guy's wife or something. 

My mother didn't spare me a single glance. "What did Roger take, Bruce?" her voice was leveled and toneless. 

I had to force myself to breathe, no point of avoiding being shot if I was going to suffocate myself. My parents knew this dude? Oh fuck no. 

Bruce shrugged his shoulders, indifferent. "Money. What else?" he paused, it was for dramatic effort. "Oh yes, and my wife." 

Bingo. 

Mom didn't look at him, she stared ahead as if she was focusing on something. He spoke again, clearly she didn't have an answer. "I expect you to pay me back in full, plus interest." 

That kicked emotion back into my mother. Did she steal my xanax or something? Why wasn't she freaking out? I didn't need a mirror to know that tears were trailing down my cheeks. 

"How do you expect me to do that? This was Roger's business not mine." she spat, attitude not the correct pathway. The magazine of the pistol cracked into her temple causing her cry out. The blood seeped into her hair and traveled down her neck. 

Bruce clicked his tongue, now looking at me. "I don't care how you get it done, Slyvia but if you don't pay me back," his gut-wrenching fingers trailed down my cheek to my jaw, "I'll make sure you never see your daughter again." 

Bile rose in my throat as he touched me, my stomach threatening to throw up. Finally, my mother's eyes met mine. Looking into mine, she nodded. "I'll get the money." 

Bruce nodded, his eyes flickering to the gunman. "Mouse. Let's go. You have deliveries." he patted my head before heading toward the door, "Oh and Rosalyn? Say hello to Fezco for me."