Devils Within by S.F. Henson

Author:S.F. Henson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sky Pony Press
Published: 2017-10-12T04:00:00+00:00

660

Dr. Sterling convinced Traitor that I need to stay in school. I’m more grateful for that than I thought I would be. School gives me a chance to get away from Traitor and it gives me something to focus on besides all of my sins.

Traitor stopped driving me, though. I figured he wouldn’t let me out of his sight, but he’s taken a different approach, punishing me by making me get up at an ungodly hour to walk. I’m exhausted by the time I reach school, but I’m actually glad for that, too. I think less when I’m tired.

This morning, Brandon is already waiting by our lockers by the time I drag in. “Whatcha doin’ next Friday night?” He bounces on the balls of his feet nervously.

I shove my textbooks in my locker. “Probably a shit-ton of chores.”

Brandon waves me off. “You can do those anytime.”

“Why? What’s up?”

Brandon glances around, then lowers his voice. “My brother is coming home. I could use a buffer. Come eat dinner with us.”

He wants me there to ease a stressful situation. Wrong guy. I’m dirty fingers in a gash. I’ll only make things worse. “Why me?”

“You’re the only one who knows.” Brandon fiddles with his backpack straps. “I’ll owe you.”

The idea of favors doesn’t sit well with me, but I feel like I owe him for being so nice to me so this would put us square, and it would get me away from Traitor. He said “no Brandon” but he can’t mean this, right? “Okay, yeah.”

“Awesome!” His grin takes up half his face. “Oh, and basketball. Today.”

“I’m—”

“Nope. The other day you said another time. This is another time.”

I grab my math book and notebook. “I don’t have any gym clothes with me.”

“I gotcha covered.” Brandon smirks. “Meet me in the gym after school.”

“But—”

He holds up his hands, then turns away, singing some song about basketball. Every few feet, he leaps up and bumps the ceiling tiles with his fingertips. I should’ve said no the first time the guys asked.

We played a lot of basketball at The Fort. Kentucky is basketball country after all. But games rarely ended well. We played prison rules: a thrown elbow, an overeager rebound, a sneaky screen, and the game suddenly wasn’t so much about who scored the most points as which team could beat the ever-loving shit out of the other one. The free-throw line was a head-shaped blood splatter where this guy called Heavyweight knocked out his own brother for fouling him.

All day, I picture that rust-colored spot, marking not just the line, but also what happens when dangerous people play dangerous games. Basketball is a beacon for the beast. A giant flashing “unleash here” sign. If I could go home first and wreak havoc in the woods, it might be different, but there’s no time. Not like Traitor would let me anyway, since the woods are off-limits since my grounding. So is Brandon, technically, but since Traitor isn’t picking me up anymore, he won’t know if I don’t go straight home.

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