Defined By Deceit

He walked down the cracked sidewalk that led out of the large trailer park as memories of his youth flooded him. Memories of him running or biking to school. Sprinting to football practice. Playing touch football under the streetlights. Late night walks with Moss. Stolen kisses under the moonlight. Llew closed his eyes and accepted the rage, let it invade his mind; but not control it. He’d learned it was alright to be angry, alright to be mad; but he wouldn’t allow himself to hate. Hate was a poison that caused a man to act desperately. He didn’t hate Moss McGregor the sixth. Didn’t hate that he’d gone on with his life, his career; gone on like Llewellyn Gardner had never existed to him.

He’d been walking for well over an hour when the abrupt chirp of siren brought him to an immediate stop. He turned around, squinting his eyes at the bright spotlight beamed at him from a deputy’s cruiser.

“Get your hands out of your pockets, now!”

Fuck me. Deputy Jamison. He didn’t think it was possible for him to forget that voice… now that was the sound of pure hate.

Unfortunately, Llewellyn was no stranger to following official orders. He slowly pulled his hands out of his pockets, spread his thick fingers, and with his palms facing out, raised them to shoulder level.

“Well look at what the dirty, filthy rat dragged out,” Jamison snarled. “Keep your hands up.”

Llew didn’t speak, didn’t argue, he just watched as Jamison got closer. The deputy’s hair was shorter, with a few streaks of gray mixed in. His face was clean-shaven, and it looked like he’d done well with staying fit for his job. But, when he got right in front of Llew, he didn’t miss the way Jamison swallowed upon getting his first good look at Llew’s size. He glared down at the shorter man, his eyes surely screaming his anger, but his voice deathly silent. With Llew’s hands linked behind his head, the windbreaker he wore did little to hide his large biceps.

“Don’t move.” Jamison went behind him and dug into his pockets, yanking out the wallet his brother just let him borrow. He threw it to the ground after rummaging through it, finding nothing but a few bills, his state-issued prepaid Visa with his entire life savings on it, and his expired ID. A rough hand dug in his back pockets. The papers from his release were still tucked in there, folded neatly. Jamison pulled them out and looked at them with his flashlight.

“No shit. Just got out today, huh? I thought you had ten years.”

Good behavior, shithead.

“They just let anything walk the streets these days. Now I got a fuckin’ rapist to deal with in my town.” Jamison threw his papers down on the ground, coming back around to face him. “Why are you over here by the high school, huh? You have no business over here. Feeling nostalgic, Gardner?”

He still kept his mouth clamped shut tight. Guys like Jamison loved to abuse their authority. Llew wouldn’t give this prick the satisfaction of seeing his fury. “I’ll be calling your probation officer first thing in the morning, let him know I caught you out here prowling the streets. I swear if you even jaywalk, I’m hauling your ass in, Gardner. I’m going to make sure you’re on the sex offenders list too. No one will hire you here. Don’t know why you came back in the first place.” The menacing snarl on Jamison’s face made it look like he was really getting ready to go off on him when his radio chirped on his shoulder, the dispatcher sending units over to the Okey Doke pub for a disturbance call. Jamison pulled out his baton and pushed it under Llew’s chin, raising his head higher. His eyes squinted at being touched by him, quickly remembering the cheap shot he took at him when he was arrested. “I’ll be watching you, punk. You better believe it. When you fuck up, I’ll be there, motherfucker.”

Llew waited until Jamison burned rubber away from him before he clenched his fists and brought his hands down. He sucked the cool night air in through his mouth and blew it out through his nose. He stood on the dark street, doing that repeatedly until his body stopped shaking.

“It’s okay to be mad. It’s okay to be angry. You have every right to be. But don’t let it control you, Llewellyn. I don’t want to see you back here. You don’t belong here.”

His counselor’s words rang peacefully through his mind, quieting his rage. He squatted and picked up his wallet, aggressively brushing off the dirt. He squinted at the multitude of instructions on his release papers, his vision still blurred from his ire. Folding and tucking them back into his pocket, he figured it might be a good idea to head back towards home. Home. Not a cell.