Page 9 of Falling in Reverse

THREE

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“You Broke Me First” by Our Last Night blares through the speakers of the minivan I’m driving. I grip the steering wheel tightly to hold back the tears and anxiety that have been coursing through me since yesterday.

I won’t fail my family.

Not over bills or the fact that I almost had to tell Mae that she couldn’t go on her field trip at school because I couldn’t fork the cash.

The thread of my resolve and, somewhat, sane mind are starting to shred, and I need to make a hustle move to pull in this week’s groceries and such.

Hence my subtle dope run that Levi handed over to me with strict instructions not to stroll into The Landings.

I probably don’t have to tell you where I currently am.

The other route is long, tedious, and I’m already tired, and in a granny van. However, it keeps me out of territory that I shouldn’t be in.

Period.

What Levi doesn’t know won’t hurt him. He has enough on his plate right now, with booby trapping the house and I’m doing this quick trip for a couple hundred so I can keep buying Dad’s medication and keep up with the girls’ things.

It’s more than what I make in tips at The Stowaway, which is a bar I work at, and I need a big night. One that can last me a few weeks instead of a few days, because if we get one more red notice on the house, the bank is going to come knocking on the door, and I might catch an assault charge.

However, in light of my chaos, it’s a blessing that I didn’t lose Dad the night of his heart attack turned stroke. Without him, my sisters would be parentless. They’d go through life with just me, and I’m not anyone to be a role model for. I can barely keep myself together, let alone two young girls. They need a stable household and I’m not it.

Because I could get myself killed for this.

Again, I’m no model citizen for my sisters to take after. Especially when I know the risks. While I purposely defy fate for this shit and roll through The Landings like we’re not constantly at war.

Getting caught here isn’t going to be a safe look for me, nor will it be a good way to end the night since I have half a pound of weed hidden in my grandma mobile.

I’m mindlessly in the zone when a black truck suddenly whips out from a side street, almost colliding into my front end.

Slamming on my brakes, the backend of the van fishtails a tad to the right, and everything not bolted to the floor comes flying to the front.

An old McDonald’s fry container hits me in the back of the head, flicking my temper on like a light switch.

Thankfully, I save Mrs. Thames’s van from getting assassinated on my run. Getting her a new one to replace the one I’m borrowing to study at school would’ve been a bitch, and she’s such a sweet neighbor for allowing me to borrow it in the first place.

Steadying my thrashing heart, the blacked-out truck doesn’t move from in front of me, and that’s when all the red flags immediately begin waving around in my brain.

I’m in The Landings.

And this is bad.

Very bad.

The driver's door pops open, causing an exasperated groan to thrust from my lips.

Yeah…I’m in trouble and probably should’ve listened to Levi.

Behind the door slides out a man in all dark clothes. Underneath the streetlight displays a leather jacket that fills out his broad shoulders, along with ripped jeans.

His head slowly cranes over in my direction when the passenger door unclicks next, alluding that he’s not alone.

Gang territory.

Guns.

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