I can’t tell either way, but the situation we’re currently in is still fucked, and I don’t agree with it.
“Why didn’t you tell me about your pops?”
I scrunch up my face. “I didn’t tell anyone.”
He shakes his head. “Some of the shit I heard… is it all true?” He seems shocked that one of his own was so fucked up.
I don’t know what he’s heard, or where people really learned that my dad was such a sadistic fuck, so I shrug again.
“I never thought…fuck. I just can’t believe it, man. I was fucking pissed when I heard. Then I see you and it’s like—it’s fucked, man.”
“It is what it is. It’s done.” I put on my empty face, because I can’t handle the emotions when they get like this. I can’t handle other people when they get like this.
I hear footsteps and look over Aziel’s shoulder, watching Easton walk up to us. “You good? I got one more errand to run.”
Aziel looks up at Easton and they shake hands. “I’ll see you in a week.” Aziel says to Easton.
Easton nods, and we watch as Aziel struts off to the conference room. Once he’s out of sight, Easton looks down at me. “You good?”
“I’m straight.” Can’t speak about the business if we aren’t in private, and I don’t feel like rehashing something that isn’t going to change anyway.
Easton narrows his eyes at me, trying to decipher if I’m telling the truth. When he can see I’m not going to crack, he nods his head down the hallway. “Ready?”
I look up at him. “Aren’t we going somewhere?”
“Yeah, I’ve got something to show you.”
Curious on what it could be, I follow him down the hallway towards the basement. We stop at the never-used elevators and pause. When he pushes the down button, I give him a dead stare. “What the fuck are we doing?”
“Quit asking questions and shut the hell up.” He shakes his head.
“Is this something I need a second blunt for?” Nerves start to get the best of me, and my already weak arms start shaking.
“This is most definitely something you need a second blunt for.”
“Great.” I retort.
When the doors creak open, I watch as Easton steps in but stay right where I am. “Has this shit ever been used in the history of ever? We’ll probably fall through the floor the moment this beast hops in.” I pat the wheelchair.
“Nah, I had Hugo ride in it a couple times to be safe.” We laugh, because Hugo is a big ass dude. If he can ride in this thing, we’ll be fine.
On our way down, the elevator groans and protests on its descent. It seems about as unsure about our destination as I feel.
The doors open once we hit ground floor, and stepping out, I trail behind Easton as he walks to the back rooms.
“Okay, Easton. Where the fuck are you taking me? I mean, doesn’t really matter, but you’re being evasive about this shit and it’s getting shady as fuck.” The damp, cold basement usually gets my blood pumping, but today it’s making me feel uneasy.
He stops in front of a door. “We weren’t sure what to do, and I felt it had to be your decision. I’ll leave you to it and be back in a few hours.” He opens up a door that reveals a pitch-black room. I can’t see a lick inside of it, and there’s no noise, no screaming prisoner from inside. He walks by me, patting my shoulder and heads up the stairs.
Curious, I press the wheelchair forward and make my way to the dark room. I glide inside, seeing a small metal tray off to the left and a bed on the right. Everything is dark, and I have to reach up on the wall to flip the switch on.
My eyes go wide. “Dad?”
12
Jackson
Shellshocked, I look at a man who used to be considered my father as he lays curled up on the bed in gray sweats and a hoodie. He looks like a prisoner. He squints, lifting his hand to shield the light. It looks like he hasn’t left this room since… well, that night. It also looks like he hasn’t bathed, eaten, or changed his clothes in a while, either.
“J-Jackson?” His voice wobbles as he tries to clear his sight. He attempts to sit up, his weak arms wobbling much like mine do. Except his is from malnutrition, whereas mine is from being stabbed in the spine.
By this motherfucker.
“I’m so glad you’re