Delinquents Can't Change

chapter 24

Will
The house is eerily quiet. Too much time on my hands to think. It's a little unfair. Unfair unfair unfair unfair unfai-

"Wilbur!" I heard Micheal yell. I looked at my hands. I'm bleeding. There's blood from the constant scratching of my nails. Wait where are my nails? I pull my hands to my face but was immediately stopped. Chains. Chains trapping me, grounding me. I pulled. I can get out of this. I usually do, how come I can't now? I pull harder, my heart is beginning to pound in my ears. I can't hear or focus on anything else. Panic surging, water rising, I can't break free. I can't move. I hear the whimpering of an animal as I tugged hard on the chains. I yell in frustration. It's raining again, water droplets on my cheeks as I can't break free. I can't escape the water rising.

"Michael!" I yelled. I closed my eyes seeing the water up to my chin. I can't, I don't want to see it. Everything is looking wrong, my body looks wrong, and everything is moving, disappearing, and expanding. I was too busy, caught up in what was happening in my head to hear anything, there was a silence eventually followed by warmth. I finally gathered the courage to open my eyes. I wasn't in a cell. I was in my old room. I didn't have cuffs, but hands around my wrist. I was sitting cross-legged on the bed. Not a single drop of water was in sight. I followed the hands to the wrists then the forearm. I noticed the tux was nowhere in sight. Instead, there was a uniform of an agent, FBI on the bulletproof vest. I touched a recently made bullet hole. It's warm, burning the pad of my index finger. 

"Wilbur, am făcut Sarmale (Wilbur, I made Sarmale)," his voice is familiar in its rough sense. The cigarettes and constant torture methods take a toll on his throat.

"I can't," I choked out. I can't breathe, I can't fucking breathe. My chest aches, my throat closing- I closed my eyes as I was pulled. I hugged him tightly.  His arms shielded me. Tapping on my back, each vertebrate was accounted for.

"Am fost prins într-un jaf. Lyola și am făcut un pariu și ea a câștigat (I got caught in a heist. Lyola and I made a bet and she won)," Michael grumbled. I buried my nose into his shoulder. I fiddled with the 32. spinning barrel. I wondered if I caused that hole. Did I shoot him? When did I grab a gun? 

"What was the bet?" I whispered.

"Cât timp aș putea fi ascuns în FBI fără suspiciuni (How long I could be hidden within the FBI without suspicion)," Michael said. I crack a smile. He has a familiar scent of gunpowder and whiskey, Always neat, never on the rocks. 

"Why the FBI?"

"We're on the top of the list. Had to remove us somehow. I actually did, they have no clue who we are," Michael said in English. English to French to Romanian. So many languages.

"Why?" I asked.

"I have time, why don't we play a game?" Michael aside. I nod.

So now I was sitting down in front of Michael, a simple chess game. I always win and yet I was losing. I was losing everything, my pawns to my king and queen. I glanced at Michael's expression. It's soft, almost pitiful. I stood up and all he did was grabbed his mugs. I threw the table at the wall.

"Wilbur," his voice. It's now nailed on a chalkboard. I covered my ears. I see the normal water. It's up to my knees so quickly.

"I don't know what I was doing, I- it hurts!" I yelled. I can't see the shadows reaching. The water was up to my chest in so little time. Why isn't it receding? Where is the wave?! I'm gonna drown.

"Wilbur. You understand you are a caring person. This is merely the effect of our mother," Michael whispered.

"Stop it!" I yelled. I closed my eyes. The water won't stop. I can hear the sound. It is receding, and when I turn and look at the wave ... Oh the wave is tall. It's a giant compared to the incident, it's a giant compared to my snapping with Greg, and it's larger than my first kill. It's so tall and yet every moment I stepped back felt like it was coming close. I hit the wall and sink to my feet. I hugged my knees.