Never Doubt Me: Judge Me Not #2(46)

“Yes,” I admit. “I have to take care of something I promised Kyle Tanner.”

She blanches and asks, “Nothing to do with drugs, right?”

Kay knows why I went to prison, and she doesn’t want the same thing happening again.

“No, it’s nothing like that.” I try to smile to reassure her.

Kay crosses her arms. She’s waiting for more information, but I can’t bring myself to tell her the details, that I’m going out to f*ck someone up.

“Kay, trust me,” I say, ignoring the irony of those words, “you’re better off not knowing.”

When I turn away, I add softly, “I’m so sorry.”

Then I am out the door before she can stop me. I don’t look back, either. I know if I turn around and see Kay’s sure-to-be-disappointed expression, I won’t be able to do what needs to be done. I hop into my truck and leave quickly, focused solely on the task at hand.

At the apartment building, after I park somewhere my truck won’t be recognized, I start my search for the gaunt meth addict with the stringy blond hair. Several pairs of blank eyes follow me, distrusting, as I slowly make my way down the alley. There’s not a lot of light, but the flickering flames from lighters as the junkies hit their pipes provide an eerie orange glow that illuminates the darkness, enough so I can see.

I have no luck, though, in locating the junkie I’m searching for—that is, until I reach the end of the alley. And there he is, right in my f*cking path. He’s sitting down, leaning back against the wall, legs outstretched, head lolling.

I say, “Hey,” and his only reaction is to open his eyes slightly.

When he doesn’t answer, just stares up at me blankly, I yank him to his feet. Amid his protests, I drag him around to the back of the building.

“What’s this about, man?” he shouts, finally coming to life. “Get the f*ck off me.”

I throw him up against the brick side of the building. “You owe Kyle Tanner money, right?” I ask, getting right up in his business. “I’m afraid the time has come to pay up.”

“I ain’t got no money,” he cries.

“We’ll see about that.”

I search the pockets of his dirty pants and discover he’s not lying. He has drugs, of course, but no money.

“See?” he whines after I pat him down some more. “No money, just like I tried to tell you.”

And that’s when I throw a right hook, falling oh so easily back into my old patterns. My fist connects with the poor slob’s face, creating a sickening sound. Fuck, I’ve just become who I used to be, a man resorting to violence to solve problems and exert his will. And just like that, it feels like everything good I’ve been striving to be has just gotten thrown out with the f*cking trash.

The guy drops to the ground.

He covers the side of his rapidly bruising face and cries out, “Why’d you go and do something like that?”

I pull him up to his feet. I can’t lie, I long to hit him again. Truth be told, it feels good to break a man.

But I refuse to lose myself completely tonight.

So instead of swinging, I take a step back and ask the guy, “You got a place where you can get some money?” I nod at the building he’s slumped up against. “You live here, right?”

“Doesn’t matter, man,” he mutters. “I ain’t got nothing to give you.” The man then starts to sob. “You may as well just finish the job.”

He stands there, waiting for me to strike him again, waiting for me to pummel his ass. His easy acceptance that he has no chance against me makes me feel really f*cking bad. I think of Kay and how disappointed she’d be in me. I think of how far I’ve come from the bloodlust I used to carry around in me. And though I’ve faltered and succumbed to doling out some violence tonight, I am nowhere near where I used to be. And I don’t want to back fall into that state of mind. But if I lay this dude out, I will fall. Right along with him, though in a different way.

I let him go.

“Just get out of here,” I say, moving farther away so he can get away from me.

He doesn’t hesitate. He runs off.

Meanwhile, I lean my forehead up against the side of the building. “Fuck,” I hiss.

Kyle will be f*cking fuming when he finds out I let the junkie go without getting any money from him and without a thorough beating. That love tap I gave the guy, he’ll probably forget by morning. He’s high, and I’m sure he’ll remain f*cked up throughout the night. Once he finally notices his bruised face, if he even does, he’ll think he fell or something.

Whatever.

My problem now is that the deal with my ex-dealer is off. Kyle will have no reason not to sell to my brother once he finds out. And I can’t be around every second of every day to make sure Will doesn’t go to Kyle’s house or contact him some other way.

“Fuck!” I clench and unclench my fists.

My frustration and anger build and build. This feels like just another way I’m failing Will.

I need to lash out. If I don’t, I will likely do something worse. Like turn to drugs or go find the junkie who I’ve just let go and finish the job.

Absolutely not.

Neither is an option. But slamming my f*cking fist against the brick wall in front of me is.