Peer Pressure

“Will you do it,” Jerome’s words rang in my head from the time he still held out the gun. It looked cold and evil and foreshadow-y.

“You have to do it. We all killed someone from our old families too.”

“Yeah, but Jerome, who’s gonna take the fall for ME? Not all of you guys even been to jail. I don’t want to go, especially if no one’s gonna take the fall for me.”

“Here. Just take it. You’ll do what’s right.”

Peer pressure.

Normal families don’t operate like mine. Normal families don’t have evil fathers and neglectant mothers and whores-for-sisters, and dead older brothers, and imprisoned older sisters. Normal families don’t know the police officers on a first name basis--the ones that care enough to come anyway. Normal families have never been mine. But no one outside of my family knows that.