Fight or Flee by Patrick Jones

Author:Patrick Jones [Jones, Patrick]
Format: epub
Tags: Bard, Barred, Corrections System, Detention, juvenile, Juvenile Corrections System, Juvenile Courts, Juvenile Delinquent, Juvenile Delinquents, Juvenile Detention, Patrick Jones, Playwright, Prison, Shakespeare, Unbarred, William Shakespeare, Social Issues, Violence, Family, Stepfamilies, Social Issues, Death & Dying, Drug, Drug Dealing, Drug Empire, Drug gangs, Drug Overdose, Drugs, Fight, Fight or Flee, Flee, Gang, Gangs, Hamlet, North Dakota, Overdose
ISBN: 9781512405156
Publisher: Lerner Publishing Group
Published: 2016-01-03T05:00:00+00:00

9

“Clay, you okay?” Paul shouts, chasing after Clay. Clay runs, stumbles, falls into the wall, and stumbles more until he reaches his office. “Clay, what’s wrong?”

Clay says nothing as he collapses face first onto the sofa near the windows.

“What was that about?” Paul asks.

Clay turns his head to the side. “Get me a drink.” He slurs the words.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Paul asks, not moving.

“If I say it, it’s a good idea,” Clay snaps. Paul heads toward the liquor cabinet. “I’ll tell you a good idea: Hinton’s got to go. Maybe go live with Latrell in St. Paul. Maybe something worse. Maybe he violates his parole and goes back inside. Anyplace but here.”

“That would kill Gabrielle.”

Clay tries to lift his head up, but fails. He speaks more to the sofa than to his second-in-command. “Maybe she’s the answer. Maybe she can figure out what’s wrong because if she doesn’t, he’s gone. With Forty coming, I don’t have time for his crap. He’s gone, gone.”

Paul hands Clay the glass, half vodka, half ice. Clay throws it in his face. “No ice.”

Paul wipes his face, grabs the glass, and fills it again. He returns to where Clay lies face down. “Here’s your drink.”

Clay mumbles something. Paul leans closer. “Paul, if you ask God to forgive you for something but you’re not really sorry, then does it really matter?” Paul starts to answer, but Clay just keeps repeating the words “I’m sorry, brother,” over and over.

“This ends tomorrow.” Paul pulls a blanket over Clay. “I’ll listen in to what Hinton tells Gabrielle, and then we’ll know what he’s thinking and what he knows. When we know, we can act.” Clay mumbles his apology refrain, but says nothing else as Paul leaves him in his misery with the bottle by his side.

***

Clay doesn’t move when the door to his office opens. The thin sliver of light from the hall reflects for a brief second off the open switchblade Hinton holds in his right hand.

“You as good as admitted it,” Hinton says, trying not to raise his voice as he steps in the room. “When you ran away, you told me all I needed to know. Innocent men don’t flee.”

Hinton kneels next to his stepfather, who hasn’t stirred. Hinton whispers in his ear. “Clay, you’re going to die for what you did. For killing my dad, marrying my mom, everything else you’ve done. Why should I consider killing myself when I’m not the problem, you are?”

Clay gurgles, saliva dribbles down his chin. Hinton puts the edge of the knife against Clay’s throat, but Clay doesn’t budge. More gurgle, more drool.

Hinton raises his voice. “You need to know it was me, and you need to know why.” Hinton presses the knife closer until a small trickle of blood oozes from Clay’s throat. Clay still doesn’t move.

Hinton scoots back on his knees and hears a clinking sound. He reaches behind him and picks up the empty bottle of vodka.

“You’re passed out,” Hinton hisses. “No, no.

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