Suicide Drills

Chapter 2

Drill and Money didn't say anything to each other the whole ride home. Drill and Money was brought back to Money's vehicle the same way they had left; in the back of a van with a paper bag sack over their face. However, this time they weren't unconscious. Money's gun was found sitting in the backseat like it was comfy.

Money tried to speak but Drill just cut him off and listened to the radio. Money knew he must be going through a lot. Drill had just killed a man and Money knew that was weighing on him deeply.

Drill kept looking down at his sneakers the whole time.

D-Boss said he would send for them again when it was time to do business but he promised it wouldn't be as rough of a summoning as their first one.

Money dropped Drill off at Drill's house. Drill got off the truck without saying a word.

Money knew Drill would never be the same after this and it was all his fault.

Money didn't think it would turn out like this. He really didn't. He had never been in a situation like that or dealt with someone like D-Boss. He heard of D-Boss' name and wanted to be a part of his team. D-Boss reached out to him.

Money thought it was an honor. Now looking back it wasn't worth putting his friend through that type of torture just so he could shine. Money knew he had to find a way for his buddy to get out of this and live that basketball hoop dream.

-

Like any other day, Drill started every morning off with a run when he woke up. While his mother slept and before kids got up for school, Drill was out running. He picked up the habit from doing all those suicide drills, running back and forth, up and down the court until you literally passed out and felt like you were dying.

Drill was always doing something that his old coach, Coach Ray Winstone, had to issue those suicide drills as punishment. He missed a lay-up he was supposed to make, suicide drill. Late for practice, suicide drill. Fight with a teammate, suicide drill. Unruly conduct, suicide drill. Unfortunately, Drill was always doing something that hindered that punishment. Hence, the name Drill was born and it stuck.

After a while Drill started running to prepare for the torture he would have to endure later. Then his running become a routine that he stuck with even after the days of strenuous suicide drills were over thanks to his new coach that didn't seem to believe in that sort of punishment. His new coach, Derrick Waters, had another form of punishment for his players that got out of line. This new form was holding two basketballs at arm's length for ten minute without dropping your arms or you had to start all over again. That was more painful than the suicide drills in Drill's mind.

Drill couldn't sleep that night after his initiation period with D-Boss. Killing that man didn't sit right with him and he tossed and turned his large frame all night. He woke up earlier than usual for his daily run. The fiends and ladies of the night were still out in full bloom, both kinds trying to get his attention as he ran but for different reasons.

He ignored both by putting on his headphones and listening to his running mix tape. His Vibram Spyridon Five Finger running shoes looked like he had duck feet especially on feet as big as his but they were comfortable and Drill always felt like he was running on clouds when he was in them. The Reebok shoes he wore in basketball practice were just as good but not as comfortable.

Drill ran for like five miles, music in his ears and a bottle of water strapped in a holster attached to his jogging sweats.

He ran this early morning with a lot on his mind. All his life, his friend Money had got him into some crazy stuff but last night took the cake. Drill had to kill someone to save himself. Drill couldn't shake that notion that his actions were the reason someone wasn't breathing air anymore. He never understood how people could commit murder so casually. He felt sick to his stomach.