Page 6 of Hunter
The Headmaster of Kings Prep, the most elite private school in the city, was the biggest fucking coke head of them all. Ihand-delivered his orders to his office day after fucking day. He profited the most from me being there. He knew Gabriel dropped me off and would demand I see him first thing in the morning. He liked to blow lines and drink coffee while keeping me on my knees underneath his desk.
He knew that I sold to his students and even his staff. He also knew how smart I was. I should’ve been King's fucking valedictorian, but there was no fucking way that he could let that officially happen. I had the highest fucking test scores and GPA all four years, but the title went to his Upper East Side princess daughter. She’s also the bitch Gabe was with. It was all so fucked up.
We aren’t considered to be our own person. We don’t have identities. Even my name wasn’t important enough to be more than a passing thought.
I was born on February 14th, and honestly, if the doctor who delivered me hadn’t mentioned it being Valentine’s Day, I could have ended up being named Monday. I’m just grateful that it wasn’t March 17th. My dumb bitch mother would have named me Patrick or some shit.
No one knows who my sperm donor father was or if that motherfucker was even alive at the time. It didn’t fucking matter anyways. Most of the X uses Garcia as a last name. Not that it matters anymore.
As far as I’m concerned, Valentine Garcia is dead and gone. The only things that tie me to that timeline are the X tattoos and these stupid fucking orange peanut butter crackers. They’re the only part of the Bronx that I brought with me to Havenwood.
My high school guidance counselor grew up in Queens and knew exactly what my life was, both in and out of Kings Prep. She grew up on the outskirts of my own real-life childhood. She wasn’t in the thug life, but close enough to know that if I wasgonna have the bright future she believed that I could have, then she had to help me bury my past.
If I was gonna have a fighting chance, then I needed a plan. So Ms. Santos and I put one together. I secretly applied to her alma mater, and after I got in, we got to work.
I didn’t give a fuck how risky it was. I didn’t give a shit that I’d be shot on the spot. If I was gonna live, then I’d fucking die trying.
I created Edison Santos. Built her to be who I wanted to become. I reinvented myself. I engineered a life that I could live and named myself after someone whom I always admired. It sparked a feeling of hope and served as a daily fucking reminder that I’m the inventor of my own fucking destiny. Not the X and the OG’s, not the Headmaster at Kings Prep, or the fucking patriarchy, ME!
Edison came to life when I stole from the X. I paid some nasty-ass guy with a small-ass dick to give me all new ID docs and create a digital footprint. He charged me 10k and head. I took 10k more; half to stash, and half went to this girl at Columbia to hack into HU’s database and change my records from Valentine Garcia to Edison Santos. After that, I was in.
I went to the public city library and sent an anonymous email to the NYPD Gang Unit tip line, telling them all about the X. I didn’t hold back. I sent them a fucking book, complete with characters, horror stories, and spilled all the tea. I knew as soon as I pressed send that I could never step foot in the Bronx again. Not that I gave a fuck. I still don’t.As if.
I stayed in city shelters for teens and hid in plain sight until school was over. I didn’t go back there either. I submitted all my work early and got a sick note forged that kept me out until June. I couldn’t leave yet. I needed my fucking diploma with my transcripts for my girl at Columbia to switch over to my new name before I left. That meant that I had to wait.
I was way too paranoid to go to my graduation and was in a constant fucking panic when I heard that raids were happening in X territory. There’s no way they weren’t being watched already, but the OG names, addresses, and info I gave the NYPD definitely helped the cause. I did the one thing no one else had: I snitched on the X.
I left New York the next day. I hopped a train and rode a bus, with only two bags to carry my shitty belongings, before making it to Virginia. I read through the online police blotters and saw the names of OG’s and gang bangers who had put their disgusting hands on me. Men who forced me. Men who I pray to Hecate are never free again.Espero que se pudran en la cárcel para siempre. I hope they rot in jail forever.
I kept Gabe’s name out of it, but he got caught up anyway. I thought about telling him, but it was too much of a risk, so I ended up turning my back on the only family member that I ever had. I couldn’t trust him to be loyal to me over the X, and he’d never choose me over his girlfriend.
He wouldn’t leave Princess Payton for nothing. Here he was, a Bronx ‘BX’ gang banger going out with the Headmaster’s preppy, rich ass daughter. He would’ve told her what I was planning, and I couldn’t risk it. Not when I knew that I was dropping her Daddy dearest’s name to the NYPD and sending an anonymous ten-page letter to the Kings Prep Board of Trustees to let them know all about his ass.
My time with the only adult I ever cared about was also over. Ms. Santos offered to take me in, but I couldn’t risk it. Not when she’d already put her ass out on the line for me. She and her British fiancé left for Europe right after the school year ended. His UK company had transferred him, and she couldn't fucking wait to leave New York. We both had an exit plan.
I hugged her goodbye, knowing we’d never see each other again. We were leaving New York for good. There was no turningback for either of us. I cried that day, but it was for the best. I think about her every time I say or write my name.
When I got into this prissy-ass school, I was supposed to have room and board covered in my scholarship, but that part of the deal fell through. I was able to stay in a dorm during the summer because I had applied for a Women in STEM program and got accepted. That gave me time to figure shit out, and I fucking did.
My advisor got me a job in the Tutoring Center to help me get by, but to keep my scholarship, I have to maintain a full-time class schedule, which leaves me with little time for anything else. So I started writing papers as a side hustle.
It gives me quick cash and can float me when I need it. And since last year, I've really fucking needed it. That’s when the Tutoring Center decided to change my pay, and Hunter Wilton started fucking with my livelihood. I went from a steady stream of cash to only being paid if the student showed up.
Before then, I didn’t give a shit if they came or not. I was getting a paycheck either way, and if they didn’t show, I’d use that time to get my own shit done. Then, the Tutoring Center changed the pay structure. And then he changed everything.
DOS
This back alleywayspans four blocks and runs behind the main street of this god-forsaken town. I’ve walked it alone so many fucking times and just need to get to the other side to slip back into the shelter. It’s full of stock pallets, cardboard,dumpsters, and back doors to the stores, along with some employee parking. It’s well-lit in some areas and pitch-black in others, which I like. I can hide in the dark or walk safely in the lights if I need to, which is why I prefer it when I go between HU and the shelter late at night.
Honestly, it doesn’t matter if this is Havenwood, Virginia, or the Bronx in New York; the back of shopping centers all look the same, and I make sure to take out my blade and hold it tightly in my hand.Por si acaso. Just in case.
I’m walking as quickly as I can to get to the other side when I hear it; I know that sound. When you grow up like I did, you learn to listen.
You also learn to mind your own fucking business. That’s always been harder for me to do, and right now, it's no different.
I know what it sounds like when someone’s getting their ass beat. Every time I hear it, I get sucked in and have to stop. It’s like any other song that reminds you of a particular time in your life.
I’ve seen a lot of people get hurt. A stupid amount of them deserved it, but more did not deserve that fucking wrath from the OG’s. I sure as fuck didn’t.
