Page 3 of Sac-rifice (RBMC: Cleveland, Ohio Chapter #7)

RICHARDS I had lived through its darkness.

A couple of minutes passed as I weighed my options.

I could take a little more time to let the situation diffuse and go back in there.

However, maybe returning tomorrow would be the best choice.

I had to have some good luck at some point, right?

Then again, I knew I was only fooling myself with those errant thoughts.

Eventually, another self-righteous winner with a wiener would be seated at my first table, waiting to greet me with a loaded hand ready to grope me.

I had a bit of restraint today because I wanted to kick him square in his family jewels, but by some miracle I held back.

If the same thing happened on a different day, I wasn’t certain I could hold back from saying, “You can go penetrate yourself!”

My gut said no bueno, compadre . There were more than a few times in my past when I wished I would’ve listened to my intuition and still suffered the consequences of not.

This time, I chose to listen. No matter where I ended up, somehow the assholes of the world seemed to find me.

It was like there was an invisible beacon inside me that every prick within a hundred-mile radius was drawn to, and they had no choice but to treat me like crap once they found me.

My mind was made up. Going back in there wouldn’t be good for anyone.

I didn’t have much money left in my savings, but I’d sleep on the sidewalk of the clinic versus dealing with a man like that again.

I ran across the parking lot, pausing at the edge of the driveway to look for moving traffic in both directions, before I crossed the road.

Today was supposed to be different. I had recently moved back to my roots, Cleveland, after years of swearing I would never step a foot back in this wretched disaster.

And yet, here I was. As far as I could tell, nothing had changed.

Maybe the faces were different, and the names of businesses were printed in new fonts, but the attitude of the people I came across were still as shitty as ever.

I wasn’t exactly a pessimist. I was a realist. I didn’t generally walk around with a woah-is-me outlook to life, constantly feeling sorry for myself or anything.

I wanted a better life than that. Some people just found themselves unlucky enough to have been dealt the shittiest hands in the game of life.

From an early age, I realized I should have folded the cards I was given and switched games completely.

I would have if it were possible. Believe me.

If stuff like that were possible, I would have pulled an Uno Reverse out of the air and walked away from one of the world’s biggest dumpster fires as a life.

The popular saying, “I wouldn’t change a thing,” came to mind.

Clearly, if given the choice, I would do the exact opposite of that and change everything.

I missed my brother, Isaac, who was up in Charleston, West Virginia, probably doing something illegal in the name of the Crazed Kings Motorcycle Club.

I despised all bikers, but he got a pass because I loved him.

It wasn’t his fault the idiot sold his soul to a devil on wheels when they helped him out of a tight spot.

He had never given me all of the details, and probably never would, but somehow, a man named Spider kept him out of jail with the understanding that he would repay his debt someday.

That desolate day came quicker than either of us realized.

The charges were bullshit, anyway; he was innocent as far as I could gather going off the scant info he told me.

Isaac had always been a closed book type of person, and this was no different.

I was sure he’d only told me what he had to about the crime in question, and there were a lot of holes in the part of the story he’d shared with me.

Having all of the details or not wasn’t important to me then or now.

His future was bright, and I’d lost so much of myself fighting to keep him on the right path.

Even after Mom died, he continued to persevere.

Our family didn’t have a legacy for either of us to live up to, but I’d willingly stood in the shadows to keep him in the light.

If he’d gotten a lawyer and fought against the bogus charges through the court system, maybe he would’ve never taken up riding with a motorcycle gang.

I offered to pay for his attorney fees. He would have won; there was no doubt in my mind.

However, the stubborn ass refused to let me call a bona fide lawyer, much less sit down with the public defender the court offered him.

, so I guess we’d never know if I was right or not.

Back then, I had some money saved and was willing to send it all to him if it meant keeping him safe.

Countless people across the nation understood the general meaning when at least two Latin words were used—pro and bono—so, money wasn’t a believable excuse.

Of course, in all of his “I’m the older brother” glory, Isaac didn’t listen to me.

He mysteriously sought help from this Spider, and the charges vanished into thin air.

Honestly, I wondered if there were ever actual charges with how quickly as his life drastically changed.

One minute, he was in the Marines, and the next, he did a one-eighty, and his ass seemed to be glued to a motorcycle, constantly correcting me with the word brotherhood when I’d say he had joined a leather cult.

Isaac would never admit it, but I was certain the person I hated the most was responsible for not only my brother being in a motorcycle gang but for him also being a free man today.

Then again, was anyone ever really free when they promised their life to a gang?

Regardless if he claimed it was a brotherhood or not.

The answer was no. You could decorate a stone in the rarest of gold, but at the end of the day, it didn’t matter what was on it.

Underneath all the eye-catching decoration, it was still a freaking rock.

I huffed, dropping onto the riverbank after making sure the area was clear and I wouldn’t accidentally squish an unsuspecting creature like an ant or ground mole beneath me.

The water sloshed against the dirt and grass, sending a cool, chilling air to float across my body.

I wasn’t up at the headwaters of the river in Burton.

This was Cuyahoga County where the river and Lake Erie met at Cleveland’s harbor, and the wind had a certain bite to it that you could only describe if you had felt it before.

Closing my eyes, I shivered, but a sense of almost peace flooded my veins.

So many bad things had happened in this city, not only to me, but to everyone I cared about.

Still, this was the place where many days ended with Isaac pushing me in our tire swing that that hung on a hope and prayer while we pretended to be anywhere else but where we were.

This was where I had my first kiss and recognized how much good the world had to offer.

Yet, this was also the place that ripped my heart out, gutting and molding me into the jaded person I was today.

I wasn’t sure what I was feeling being back here. Was a person supposed to feel melancholy and happiness at the same time? Because both were present every time I considered moving back. Being back hadn’t done anything to change those feelings. If anything, they were intensified.

The sun beamed down on my skin as I thought to myself about all of the happy memories that had taken place not too far from here.

Over the years, I’d tried to trick myself into believing our neighbors only had one kid, a son.

But it was impossible to believe the lie when my heart already knew the truth.

What people said about liars always using lies to cover up the first one was true.

It was a vicious cycle that I had put myself through.

I was always lying to keep my past where it belonged—behind me—but it was a lie that I was certain had saved me more times than I could count.

The only son of the two I still acknowledged was Tate.

He was one of my best friends growing up, the youngest of their house.

We hadn’t really been the best at keeping in touch over the years, but I thought of him often.

After my mom died, his mom stuffed every inch of their vehicle with their belongings, leaving only enough room for Tate and the other one in the back seat, and headed to Idaho not too long after mine and Isaac’s mom had died.

Isaac was shipped off to West Virginia. I begged them to allow me to go with Isaac, and he would have taken me with him if it was his choice.

It wasn’t. My fate was sealed with the system.

At the time, being separated didn’t seem to be as horrible as it turned out to be.

We all made promises of what our future would look like together.

It was all figured out, leaving nothing to question.

The foster home I wound up at was supposed to be a temporary blip on our timeline.

The shithead brother of Tate’s was going to save me.

Once we were on the road, we would meet up with Tate, and then the three of us would stay with Isaac.

When people were young, it was a common to think things could be laid out on a singular plane, but things didn’t work in that exact manner.

Life wasn’t a straight line that never strayed from the path you planned.

Every action caused a reaction and threw taller obstacles at you, some of which you could never overcome.

We were dumb kids, who hadn’t even begun to understand the meaning of living yet, so the idea of our plan failing was never something we saw coming our way. Kids, well, people really, promised each other stuff they actually believed that ultimately turned out to be nothing more than pretty lies.

I huffed, aggravated by how disappointed I was with myself for ever being stupid enough to believe we had the power to change our future.

If time was reversible, I would go back to the moment when our world tilted and beg them not to do it.

I didn’t know it then, but I was strong enough to do what they had done.

If I had, maybe we would all still be together.

Telling myself that and almost believing it made me as stupid, if not more so, than when we were kids.

Now, I knew better, but was too lost to care.