He didn't mean to hit nobody that hard.
|Austin didn’t know his little sister had been watching him. He turned the corner walking at a very brisk pace, it could have been him tonight, and he knew he didn’t have anybody there to watch his back.
“What did you do?” His sister asked when she finally caught up with him, “What did you do?”
He went to blink his eyes, and he saw his fist going through the opponents face. His jaw was broken and his nose cracked. He tried to stop blinking, and crossed the crosswalk on red, hoping his sister would just leave him alone.
“All that blood, look at your hands,” She commented, “You should wash that off.”
He hadn’t even been thinking about that; he just needed somewhere to go, and stay; clean up, and lay low. He started thinking of friends who he could easily explain this too. Unfortunately, because of the crowd he was in, most of them thinking of him as an impenetrable fortress, someone who never lost his cool, he did not know. He figured maybe Lances dad would be out, and maybe he could just go there to clean up.
“Okay,” she persisted, “I won’t tell mom; but you’re going to have to fix yourself up before you head home.”
If ever he had wanted to roll his eyes, it was now. He jumped a few metal fences, went through a few back yards, and found himself at the trailer park. The trailer park was safe, because he would be around the criminal element, much like his self. If there was one thing Lance was sick of hearing, it was how many steps you could take in either direction before running into a pedophile. He knew it was probably true, but he had been hearing it for so long, that he despised people who talked this way about where he lived.
He tried to put his head down, as he passed a few trailers with an automatic light, he went straight to the back, to Lances trailer. He knocked on the door...Shave and a hair cut. The door flew open, he had no idea who Lance was expecting, but it probably wasn’t him.
“Hey, get in here you old dirt bag. Your all over the wire; everybody’s looking for you. They say you killed him. Fucking dead.”
Austin went into the trailer.
“I need a shower,” he said.
“Damn right you do. Go grab some of my clothes and clean yourself up, I bet you want to see yourself on TV.”
Austin did, as he stood under the hot water, he rubbed the bar of soap on his face, watching the blood come off. Once he was sure the majority of it was off his hands, and face, he dried off and put some clothes on. Then he went out to the living room.
On the TV was a red bar scrolling the bottom, and his opponents face was shown, bloody and torn up. A number scrolled across the bottom of the screen, telling the watching audience the number to call if anybody saw him.