#nosspara

She wasn’t sure why she agreed to go to the Conroy’s Halloween party. Most of the party’s attendees were people she either didn’t know or didn’t care for. Jayden was the only person there she really liked, and he disappeared as soon as he laid eyes on his boyfriend. She tried to converse with people and listen to the shitty music that was playing, but neither of those things helped. The reality was that she was all alone in this house full of people. It was just her and her thoughts.

She didn’t want to think about the things that were bothering her, about Rowan or Kevin or Coby, but especially not Kevin. She had been having this recurring nightmare in which he came back to Greensville and killed off everyone she loved one by one, leaving her to die alone. Was this likely to happen? No. But thinking about it was terrifying nonetheless, and she really didn’t want to think about it, so she started drinking. 

In all of his days as a parent, David Simmons had developed a strong stomach. His years as a doctor had made him even stronger, but nothing scared him more than. The prospect of hurting one of his children, though was enough to make that same stomach turn. So imagine how terrified he was to tell his children the news: they had gained a half brother, his relationship with their mother hadn't always been as solid as it was now. To his relief however, the reactions of the two he had already told, Brodie and Rylie had been notably unremarkable. Rylie had gotten excited at the prospect of another brother to spoil her- at two years old, Evelyn had reasoned, had he really expected her to be shocked and angered? Brodie had been quiet, carefully asking his parents what this meant for their family, and had been accepting of the situation. Brodie had always been the brother with the level head, and so, when his final question of "Does Codie know?" Came up, David had really found himself wondering why it'd hadn't come up as his first question. It also renewed his worry.

Codie, as his first child (or so he had thought) was also his most unpredictable reaction wise. He had admitted himself that he "didn't do well with emotions" and never had David heard a more true statement. Not only did Codie not do well with emotion, it was, quite frankly the opposite. He was a force of nature when stressed or upset. That was why they'd waited to tell him last. Now the time had come. It was D-Day. Co-D Day.

They had invited him over. Just him. They had discussed long and hard whether they should ask Danny to come before deciding against it. They knew that she'd help, but they felt that they needed to have a frank conversation with Codie to help him understand that nothing was going to change, and for that they needed him. Only him. He showed up right on time, looking tired from a days work. He has greeted them with a hug and looked around for his sister, looking only a tiny bit disappointed when they said she'd already gone to sleep.

"So, what's up?" He'd asked as he sat at the dinner table opposite his parents having grabbed a glass of juice. Some things never changed. David and Evelyn exchanged a look before Evelyn cleared her throats and reached out to grip her son's hand "Co..your dad needs to tell you something and I need you to keep calm. Promise?" His eyes quickly averted to his dad "Dad?" He'd asked, voice quivering with worry "...What's wrong? You're not sick are you?" The older Simmons male shook his head quickly in an effort to soothe his son "No, I'm not sick, son. I..." he felt Evelyn's hand slide into his and squeeze it gently, and while he appreciated the gesture greatly, forever thankful for the never ending well of support that was his wife, he knew he couldn't divert from what he had to say. Codie had to know, and now was the time. Taking a deep breath, he met his son's eyes "Before I say this..I need you to know that I love your mom, and I love you and your brothers and sisters more than anything. And nothing changes because of what I'm going to tell you." Codie's eyes flitted to his mom's, searching with a frown for some kind of idea of what was going on, but when she gave nothing away, he looked back at his dad he thought he was ready, nodding to the man's previous statement and saying in a questioning tone "...OK? We love you too. You know we do." David nodded, and bit his lip, then spoke as calmly as he could.

"Codie...years ago me and your mom hit a few problems. We were still in school, we were fighting...we broke up. I moved out of our apartment, got a place of my own and I tried to move on but I started drinking a lot...I..I met this woman one night.." David watched as his son realised what he was saying and looked to his mother in horror, but she just squeezed his hand and murmured "Hear him out, honey." So he did, and he watched his father continue with a cough "..You can see where I'm going with this..but...until recently I'd forgotten about it. As soon as we got back together I told your mom everything, and thank god, she took me back even though I didn't deserve it. It's not something I'm proud of, but I need you to understand that it meant nothing. I was hurting, and I know..I know that's not an excuse but-" he was interrupted then, by his son who had gone red in the cheeks "Dad. I get it. What I don't get is why you're telling me about you screwing somebody that's not my mom. Fuck, I don't know why you're telling me about you screwing somebody at all."

David felt his cheeks rouge at his son's clear disgust and he diverted his eyes from him. He barely heard Evelyn say gently "Don't cuss please, Codie. David?" She squeezed his hand again, and he sighed, and with his free hand he massaged the bridge of his nose, before he looked back at his son "OK. So...a couple of months after I...you know...your mom heard that this...this woman was..pregnant." He watched his son's eyes grow large, and open his mouth to ask the most obvious question, so David spoke to cut him off "So...I went to talk to her and she told me the baby was her husband's. Yeah, before you ask she was married. They were having problems, he was in a different country at the time. So..anyway..I trusted her. I accepted what she said because, as far as I could see, she had no reason to lie. If I was a little older, a little more wise I would've made sure..but back then I was just happy to accept it and move on I mean..your mom and I were engaged and we were happy. I wanted to leave that moment of bad judgement behind me. For years it never came up, until..." his voice trailed off then, and he looked away, too ashamed to meet Codie's eye.

Evelyn picked up the slack, piping up "Codie...what your dad means is that he got a visit from that woman's husband recently...and it turns out that woman...Claire Houston..." she saw her eldest son's eyes grow dark with recognition. Evelyn quickly tried to speak "Codie, honey I need you to stay calm..." their son spoke quietly, but his voice was furious "So you're telling me..James Houston is my half brother?" His parents looked at one another, unsure of how to respond, but luckily for them, Codie's voice grew in volume as he slowly rose to his feet "James, who owns the garage I work in, is my fucking brother?" David also stood, holding his hands up and showing his palms to show he came in peace. Of course Codie had guessed. While he wasn't as smart as his brother in school, Codie was quick on the uptake and also knew his dad very well. They were incredibly close, well, David thought we were. "Son, please. Let me tell you the entire story before you get mad-"

It was one of the warmest days this year so far when David knew it was time to tell his wife about the bombshell that had exploded and caused what he was sure would be quite the substantial wreck in it’s wake. He took a deep breath as he turned the key in his front door. The house’s AC was in full swing, and he could smell the faint smell of peppers and chicken. As he shut the door he heard his wife call out, her voice chipper, but with that same underdone of authority that always lingered. Evelyn had been a attorney long before she had been a wife, a mother and all of the lessons she learned from dealing with criminals she took over into her home life whenever someone didn’t want to eat their vegetables “David?” she called, having never, ever called him ‘Dave’ for the entire time she knew him. She knew better than that. He hated that name. Hell,he wasn’t even too keen on David. Nevertheless, he shrugged off his jacket and dropped his bag, following his nose to the source of the smell.

Evelyn was busy, she was stirring peppers cooking in a pan, as well as dancing to the sweet melody of some Latin music on a CD he’d long forgotten they had. He knew she was only doing it for the benefit of their daughter, Rylie who was shaking her hips in time with the song she didn’t understand and giggling. She gasped when she saw David and ran toward him, launching herself upwards which he happily facilitated, holding her close as the little girl wrapped her arms around his neck “Daddy!” she cried. He couldn’t help but smile at her “Hey, Ry.” he was about to ask her how her day at daycare was, when Evelyn came over and kissed him quickly and gently, with a “Hi” which she promptly left behind as she walked to put plates down on their table. She did, however address him even from the other side of the room “Hey, I think you should go get some ice. Me and Rylie have been sitting here melting our butts off.” their daughter nodded, her expression suddenly serious and grave when her father looked to her with a raised brow to confirm this story. He was about to ask about their day, but Evelyn continued “Good news though–that brat in her daycare? Didn’t stand a chance against the March death stare.” that, he did laugh at. He chuckled. It was true that Evelyn’s side had a stare which could turn you to a puddle of nothing on the floor, and now that their daughter had learned to do it, David had no doubt that she would become one of the girls you didn’t steal crayons from.

He could feel himself getting distracted and sighed. He murmured a quiet question of ‘could you go draw me a picture so I can put it in my office?’ to his daughter, which, after a look of disbelief (she really was her mother’s daughter) shot off. He pressed pause on the CD and went over to Evelyn, his wife of over 20 years. She looked surprised as he took her hand and told her to sit down. After reading his expression however she became plain panicked “What’s wrong? Are the boys okay?” David nodded quickly, thumb running across the back of her hand “Eve, the boys are fine. I…I need to tell you something.” she watched him, trying to read his expression carefully, as a lawyer only could “…It’s something that’s been worrying you?” Her husband sighed and sat next to her, slipping his hand back into hers and squeezing it gently “It is. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to tell you, I needed a day or two to consider how to tell you..” Evelyn regarded him, blinking slowly in confusion “David…you’re scaring me. Just tell me what it is.” He just looked at her and realised that he was eventually going to have to do just that. He’d have to deliver a blow that could mean her going upstairs and packing his stuff up. His mind was racing, and it took a lot to calm himself down to the point where he could say quietly, and with a little shame (at himself) “I spoke to Julian Houston a few days ago. Claire lied.” he waited, waited for the anger, for the screaming, for the shock, for the hurt that he wouldn’t blame her for. When he looked up, he could see her shock, it was plain and evident on and all over her face, but she didn’t look angry. But then she did. Her eyes narrowed and her shoulders raised with tension “She lied? She lied about him? He’s a child not a goddamn stray cat. You had a right to-” he cut her off then, cupping her cheek with his free hand “Honey, she’s dead. What she did or didn’t do doesn’t matter anymore. This is the situation. James knows, I know, Julian knows. James has stage 2 small cell lung cancer.” her eyes widened at that last part, for once his ever confident wife was stunned into silence.

Sam wasn’t expecting his older brother to call him, and he especially wasn’t expecting him to be asking for help. Rusty never asked anyone for help; he had been self-reliant since they were kids. When Rusty needed something, he always did it himself. Sam could count the number of times he had given his brother help with anything on one hand. But right now? This sounded serious. Rusty sounded like he’d been crying, and Rusty hadn’t cried in front of Sam since elementary school. 

“Of course. What’s up?” Sam asked, not knowing what else to say. Sure, he and his brother had had their differences, to say the least, but Sam wasn’t about to say no to his only brother. 

“I-I lost my job. The company had to lay people off. I don’t know how I’m gonna make rent next month...” Rusty paused to blow his nose. “Can I borrow money from you?” Money. That really was serious. Rusty got his first job at twelve years old and had never been without a job since then. Even throughout college he worked almost full-time. 

“Yeah. Yeah, of course you can, bro.” Bro? Sam couldn’t remember a time where he ever called Rusty “bro,” but it felt right in the moment. 

After a mumbled “thank you” from Rusty’s end, the two brothers sat in silence for a few minutes. During those minutes, Sam began to think. Rusty was unemployed. There was no telling how long it would take for him to find another job in data analysis. Rusty liked living in Chicago and would rather die than move back with their parents in Paradise. Sam liked Greensville, but at the same time felt as though he was in a dead-end job going nowhere. Maybe being closer to Rusty would be good for him. Rusty always wanted Sam to do more with his life. Maybe this would be the push Sam needed. 

After silently contemplating, Sam stated, “Hey, Rusty? I think I have an idea.”

“What idea?” Rusty asked, hesitantly. 

“What if I moved in with you? I already have a bartending license so I can get a job at a place near you. Chicago’s packed with people, I’m sure some bar will have an opening. I’ll pay the rent and whatnot until you can get back on your feet, and then we’ll split it after that. Just as long as you have a couch for me, I’ll be set.”

“I think I’d like that. Having you around. You sure things will be okay with your job now though?” 

“I’ll give them my notice. My bosses are nice guys, they’ll understand.”

After an agreement was reached, the two brothers talked on the phone for another two hours. for the first time in a long time, they actually caught up with one another. They talked about everything, from childhood to their dating lives (or rather, lack thereof) to Netflix movies. It felt nice to catch up with Rusty, to actually feel like he had a brother again. 

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Most of the other inmates were in line for food already, but some had already sat down and started eating. As Wally got on the line, he studied the people around him. Most of the men there looked bugged out, either from drug withdrawal or pure psychosis. Those were his two theories, at least. He couldn’t tell for sure. He, a sixteen-year-old boy, was surrounded by men who ranged from early twenties to late sixties, the average being in the early to mid thirties. Mostly black, some Latino, even less white. Most of the white people there were guards. Those who were sitting were divided by race, just like in juvie. No one really knew why this arrangement occurred, but it was better not the question the status quo. 

Wally was about halfway to the food when a man cut in front of him, a tall Latino man who looked to be at least thirty. He had a shaved head, tattoos covering both his arms, and a visible scar on the front of his neck. Based on the location and appearance of the scar, Wally guessed someone had slit the man’s throat. It was his first day, but he didn’t want to be seen as the weakling newbie who could be pushed around at whim, so he shoved the older man. 

“Hey, get to the back of the line,” Wally demanded, trying his best to sound assertive. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you the no cutting rule in elementary school?” 

Without so much as an acknowledgement to what the young boy said, the older man turned around, shoved Wally to the ground, and curb-stomped him into the tiled floor. Suddenly, the room erupted into shouting and laughter. The guards rushed over and hauled the man out of the room, but the noise didn’t cease. Wally stayed on the ground for a minute, defeated, until an unfamiliar face offered a hand to him. An older black man of at least sixty-five hoisted the teen off the floor and escorted him back onto the food line, and stayed with him until he got a tray of food.

The older man saundered off to a table of other older black men, and Wally, not knowing where else to go, approached the table. “Um, excuse me, sir? Can I sit here?” He knew from juvie not to sit somewhere without permission as a newbie. He assumed the same rule went for adult prison. 

“Yeah, kiddo. Go right ahead,” the man answered, in a thick southern accent. He patted the seat next to him and Wally sat down, muttering a thank you. “What’s your name, boy?” 

“Jacob Wallace,” he answered without hesitation. “Most people call me by my last name though. Wallace, or Wally for short.” 

The old man chuckled. “Well funny coincidence, my name is Wallace too. Wallace Greene.” Wallace picked up his pancake like a sandwich and bit into it with an audible crunch. Pancakes definitely were not supposed to crunch. “Son, I’m gonna give you advice. Now, I dunno if this is your first rodeo or not, but I been here for thirty-three years, so I know a thing er two ‘bout how things work in these here parts. You’re fresh meat, and you’re a young feller too, so people are gonna pick on ya. Try not to start shit with anyone, but if you do end up in a scuffle, hold your ground. And try to make some friends who’ll have your back. Otherwise you ain’t gonna make it outta here in one piece. Also, we got a gym in here, you might wanna go to it. You’re scrawny as a toothpick. Toughen up a bit. Now, eat your breakfast before someone tries to steal it.”

Wally was sitting on the livingroom floor of the squatter house, listening to music on his iPod. Music was his favorite way to wind down after a long day. Everyone was in the house except for Rowan and Burns. He hadn’t seen Rowan in weeks, no one had, and frankly he was almost certain she either got arrested, died, or ran away with her weird butch friend. Was he worried? Sure. But if she was still out there, he couldn’t spend all of his energy on her. She would probably just pick a fight with him if he tried. Andrew Burns, on the other hand, he had no concerns about. He was a 28-year-old man, Wally didn’t have to babysit him. But he was curious about what that idiot was up to.

Just as he was about to ask someone where Burns was though, he busted through the front door, almost falling on the floor as he entered. Wally paused his music, got up off the floor, and went over to the man. Burns reeked of alcohol and looked like he was about to throw up. ‘Typical,’ Wally thought to himself.

“Dude, you look like shit,” Wally stated, putting a hand on the older man’s shoulder. “You need me to get you some water?”

“Fuck off, Wallace,” Burns replied, shoving the younger man’s hand away.

“The fuck’s your problem?”

“You’re my fucking problem, shithead!” Burns spat at Wally, and Wally smacked him in retaliation. Diego, who had been whittling a small bear, put his whittling materials down and broke the fight before it could escalate too much.

“Jesus. Andrew, what’s got into you tonight?” Diego asked, glaring at the drunkard until he spoke up.

“I got kicked outta my favorite bar ‘cuz of this motherfucker!” he shouted, stabbing Wally’s chest with his finger.  

Wally smacked his hand away and condescendingly asked, “You sure it wasn’t ‘cause you got too drunk and threw up on the bartender again, dumbass?”

“Fuck you! It’s ‘cause your stupid ass stole shit from there and he knows I hang with you!”

“Hey, shit for brains, you like having food to eat and water to drink? Sometimes you gotta take some risks...”

Burns, not wanting to hear any more of Wally’s talk, pushed Diego onto the floor, then grabbed Wally by the shirt, pinning him to the wall. Everything happened so quickly that Wally didn’t even have time to react before finding himself pressed against the wall and his best friend on the ground, unable to get up. “Shut the fuck up, Wallace! You- you act like you’re the fuckin’ boss of us, but no one wants you here!”

No one wants you here. Wally tried not to let words get to him, but it was with those words that he snapped. He kneed Burns in the groin, and proceeded to kick him in the head until he bled. No amount of intervention from any of the dozen or so people in the house could stop him from beating the living daylights out of Andrew Burns.