This had been one miserable fucking day. Terry sat there in his apartment thinking about how he had just thrown away so many years of his life on trying to ruin Brandon's. Even though he was out on bail, he had no clue how he was going to talk his way out of this one.
Officer Silas had picked him up and questioned him, and all because that bitch April had turned on him. He should have known better than to trust her drunk ass. And now Brandon was out of holding and Sienna was probably going to cry to him about their little escapade. Great. Fan-fucking-tastic. He knew it was just a matter of time before BT came and kicked his ass.
But maybe he could talk to him. Say that Sienna had come on to him? Or just deny the whole thing.
His only saving grace was that Sienna had yet to talk to the police, so they couldn't hold him on rape charges without her accusation.
His phone started ringing. He was sure it was Darren or Alice. Between the two of them, they had both left about ten messages. Darren had been asking what happened and why SP had picked him up, and Alice was asking if he had left her for another woman. She was so fucking insecure.
Fuck, it was Darren on his caller ID. No doubt he knew about the situation with Sienna. He really didn't feel like dealing with this shit right now. He clicked ignore and went back to eating a bowl of cereal.
But then Darren called again. What the fuck did he want?
When Darren called for the third time in a row, Terry decided to just answer.
"What?" he asked, with a mouthful of cereal.
"Thank God I got you!" Darren yelled into his ear.
"Christ, man, bring it down a notch," Terry said, moving the phone further from his ear.
Terry could hear car horns and faint crying in the background.
"Listen!! You have to get out of your apartment right now!!!" Darren screamed back into the phone.
"Yeah, okay. I'll get right to that, chief," Terry retorted sarcastically, about to hang up.
"Listen!!! BT is on his way to your apartment now! He knows everything and he has a gun!!"
That sent an instant chill down Terry's spine. He almost choked on his food.
"What?!!"
********************
'Goddamn it, GODdamn it, GODDAMN IT!!!!!' Brandon shouted inside his head over and over again.
He was flying down the street, swerving in and out of different lanes. He knew he had driven straight through a few red lights, but truthfully, this whole drive would be nothing more than a blur. Adrenaline and anger were coursing through every inch of his body. He could feel it in his scalp, his fingers, his toes...everywhere.
"Aaaahhh!! Motherfuucckkerr!! Brandon screamed out loud while he shook the steering wheel.
He tried to burn out of his mind the mental image of his baby screaming and crying while that asshole held her down and tried to force her to...
Fuck, he couldn't think about it. He was going to lose it. For real.
And this was it. He realized then, he was going to prison for murder. No. Torture then murder. Because when he found him, he was going to stomp that motherfucker within an inch of his life and when death was creeping upon Terry, he'd empty an entire clip into his fucking skull. No. He'd empty half into his groin and the other half into his skull.
If his lips and teeth weren't pressed so tightly together, he would have chuckled to himself. His uncle Harold always told him he would go to prison. "You worthless little son of a bitch. You'll just end up in prison one day anyway, being someone's bitch!" he would say as he smacked Brandon around.
And he was right. At least about him ending up in prison. There was no way this was unavoidable. He was going to kill Terry, and then call the police. Much like he had done when he thought he'd killed his uncle years ago with a baseball bat.
His mind raced back to the task at hand. What was Terry's fucking address? 246? Or 426 London Ave? Didn't matter, he'd beat down both doors if he had to.
He pulled up to the 246 and saw Terry's car. He took a deep breath and got out. He walked quietly up the stairs to his door. He was about to kick that shit in, when Terry opened the door.
Terry had been scrambling around his apartment grabbing his wallet and keys. He had just hung up with Darren and he couldn't believe it. Brandon was going to try to kill him? Fuck!
Just as soon as he had grabbed everything, he flung open the door and came face to face with him! The expression on Brandon's face was murderous.
Brandon was startled for about two seconds, but then his mind snapped back and he tucked the gun behind his back and into his pants, then swung his fist full force into Terry's face.
Terry went flying backwards and landed on his glass coffee table which shattered under his weight. He didn't have a second to recover before Brandon was on him again.
"Wait, wait BT! I can expl--," was all Terry managed to huff out, before Brandon swung at his face again, smashing it.
Terry felt his nose break with that punch. The stinging ache went coursing through his nose, up to his eyes, which caused them to immediately start watering.
Brandon picked him up by the shirt and slammed him into the closest wall and quickly punched him twice in the stomach. When Terry bent over, Brandon's knee came up with full force and struck his face. He felt himself fly backwards and hit the wall again. He couldn't tell which way was up. He couldn't tell if it was tears or blood stinging his eyes at this point.
Brandon watched as Terry slid down the wall. The sight of blood gushing from various cuts in his face only fueled Brandon's fire. This motherfucker was going to pay, and then breathe his last breath.
Brandon delivered several kicks to his stomach, causing Terry to scream in agony. Terry tried to defend himself, so in between kicks, he managed to sweep his foot out and kick Brandon's legs out from under him.
Brandon slammed into the floor on his back. Terry took that opportunity to roll over. He couldn't breathe. He figured some of his ribs were cracked, along with his nose, and maybe a few broken fingers. Possibly an arm?
It was so painful, but Terry managed to get to his knees and was about to crawl to his bedroom when he heard the click behind his head. He immediately turned cold.
Brandon was breathing hard. It was taking everything in him at that moment not to pull the trigger.
"BT, uh, I'm sorry man. I'm so fucking sorry. Just let me explain." Terry choked out.
Brandon didn't give two shits about his lame ass explanation. This bastard wasn't going to live too much longer.
"Brandon, lower your weapon. Now!"
Brandon knew who that voice belonged to. Commander Branson. He glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw that the Commander was holding a gun too. He had it pointed at Terry, but Brandon knew in an instant it could be pointed at him if he shot Terry.
But Brandon wasn't ready to let this motherfucker go. He felt he couldn't be happy until he saw a hole in the back of this asshole's head with his brains splattered on the floor.
"Brandon, don't fuck up all the hard work you've done because of him. It's not worth it, and you know it."