Unnamed Side Project

The squeal of tires was all I could remember being the cause for my waking up in the middle of the night. Then it was the blaring horn accompanied by a flash of golden yellow lights that illuminated my darkened room, sending the shadows back to where they had come from. The third sound, or sounds really, came right after the horn and they embedded themselves into my memory for all of eternity. Three deafening roars of what sounded like a car back firing but that I knew in my heart was the sound of gunshots just outside my window.



It was all as if I didn't live in what should have been a safe neighborhood after leaving my childhood behind me forever. Still I had to find out what was outside that window causing so much sound to wake me and what chilled my heart when I heard it. So I stood up from beneath the warmth of the thick down comforter and slipped on a pair of skater shoes. Already I was dressed in dark jeans and a hoodie that hid most of my skin so all I had to do aside from grab the shoes was put a semiautomatic handgun into the back of my waistband and let the hoodie hide it. With dread filling my every step, I traversed the now cold room toward the door which was locked and had a shotgun over the frame.



A glance outside gave credit to my darkest fears and nightmares as I beheld the sight that was before me in my perfectly manicured lawn. My brother was laying there with three bullet holes in his chest and glassy eyes staring up at the sky while he clutched something close. A deep pain filled my chest and a bellow of anger ripped from my throat as I tore through the doorway and dashed across the yard to his side. In his hand was a picture of me when we were younger while I held onto his hand and a smile brushed our lips.



Tears, salty and painful in their own way, flooded down my cheeks as I looked at the picture and saw my now 18 year old brother who had been facing troubles in every way. I could just barely make out the shape of a pistol in his waistband and so I knew that Ash had been expecting this. What good was I if I couldn't even protect my own family when they came to my house looking for help?



A vicious snarl bared itself upon my lips and curled them into a look of pure evil as my eyes glinted with rage. No one would harm and kill my flesh and blood on my front lawn while expecting to get away with it. This would be avenged no matter what I had to do. "Bryce, what happened?" A female voice, one so filled with fatigue that it made me realize just how late it was, whispered from the door. Yet I couldn't explain to her so instead I stood up and walked to the house, leaving Ash visible.



"Chelsey, baby, I have something I have to take care of so please take Sam and go visit your mom until I return." I spoke with hatred dripping from my every word as I grabbed a duffel from the hall closet and began to stuff it full of ammunition as well as every gun I had in my possession. A gasp from Chelsey alerted me to the fact that she had seen Ash on the lawn but I just didn't care anymore. "Tell Sam that I will see him again when I avenge his uncle's murder."



With that I was out the door and hopping into my Dodge Charger and starting the engine with a hearty roar. The tires squealed for about two seconds before I was out of the driveway and following the way where the car had gone, off to find these men and kill them. This was personal and they would know what it was like to mess with a former street rat. After all, that is where Ash and I had grown up and now that I was 25 years old there were many things I knew about this city.