Everyone was still sound asleep when Treacherous finished his morning talk with his parents. Afterward, he wasted no time breaking into a pushup. After the completion of his first set, Treacherous reached for the pen and paper lying on the nightstand next to his bed and wrote down the forty-rep set. Exercising was one of the few things Treacherous enjoyed doing at the group home. What had started out as recreation for him wound up becoming a part of his daily morning routine. Within the past thirty months or so, Treacherous had gone from a puny twelve-year-old to a well-built teenager. Judging from the way his mother had described his father, he knew his body would probably develop like his. To be so young, he was impressed with the ripples in his midsection, the width of his back, and the bulk on his arms, as was everyone else who had noticed the transformation he’d made during his stay at the Richmond group home.
Both the staff and the other kids had watched in amazement as Treacherous engaged in strenuous workouts, consisting of pull-ups, pushups, and dips throughout the day. He was the biggest kid in the group home. Standing at five foot nine and weighing in at a solid 185 pounds, for the most part, Treacherous’s appearance was enough for the other kids to keep their distance. That was the way he liked it. He had no friends at the group home and he didn’t want any. Everyone, including the staff, treated him as if he was from another planet. No one really said anything to him, and his interactions with them were the same.
By the time Treacherous had completed his ten sets, showered, groomed, and dressed, the Virginia sun was just peeking through the window of the room, letting him know it was time for breakfast. All the other kids were just climbing out of their beds and heading to the bathroom. Treacherous could feel a set of eyes on him as he tied his shoelace. When he looked up, his suspicion was confirmed. One of his roommates was delivering a cold stare in his direction as he stood waiting in line for the bathroom. It was the same stare Treacherous had caught the kid shooting at him on three other occasions. The kid’s name was Eric Allen, and he had only been at the group home for two and a half months. Eric had been ordered by the court to remain at the group home until he turned eighteen, according to what Treacherous had overheard.
Eric was a chubby, fair-skinned sixteen-year-old, a few inches shorter than Treacherous, with a big afro you could often find him patting as he talked. He often shared his street tales with the six other kids who occupied the attic when it was time to return to their room for the evening. Treacherous never entertained Eric’s stories. All he talked about were the hustles he had supposedly indulged in. Apparently, he had done everything from selling drugs to holding up convenient stores and robbing people. He bragged about how he had gotten away with an abundance of riches and merchandise. None of the stories interested Treacherous, though, especially since none could compare to the ones he continuously read in his mother’s journals.
The only thing that stood out during Eric’s stories was the fact that they mostly took place in the Seven Cities, where Treacherous’s family was from. Through Eric’s stories, Treacherous learned that he was from the Tidewater Park Projects in Norfolk, which were the same housing projects Treacherous’s father and grandfather were from. While Eric had the other kids in awe with his tales, Treacherous sought entertainment in the real-life stories of his parents. Although the two had never said a word to one another, it was evident that Eric didn’t like Treacherous, so it did not come as a surprise to him that the person staring at him was, in fact, Eric Allen.
Treacherous met Eric’s stare with an even colder one. The two remained locked until one of the kids tapped Eric on the shoulder and informed him that it was his turn to use the bathroom. Before he disappeared into the bathroom, Eric cracked the knuckles of his balled-up fist. Treacherous shook his head and continued tying his sneakers.
Treacherous sat in the corner as he always did with his plate on his lap while the others sat and ate their breakfast at the tables. When he had first arrived, the staff allowed him to sit off in his eating spot out of sympathy for his situation, but, later, when they tried to get him to join the others, he outright refused. Eventually, they got tired of Treacherous’s refusals and gave up.
Treacherous slowly ate his eggs and toast. Then, he chased it with a carton of milk as he watched Eric, who was also watching him out the corner of his eye. Although he did not fear anything or anyone, something about Eric had Treacherous feeling uneasy. He could not figure out why, out of all mornings, the kid Eric had decided to have a problem with him. Treacherous stood up and made his way over to the trash can to discard the empty Styrofoam tray and empty milk container. Rather than play the staring game with Eric for the second time that morning, he decided to look straight ahead and pretend Eric didn’t even exist. As he neared him, Treacherous detected movement from Eric’s direction and instinctively stepped to the side.
“Watch where you’re goin’, you retarded muthafucka,” Eric chimed as he pulled his size-twelve shoe back in after a failed attempt to trip Treacherous. Treacherous made no reaction. He maintained his composure and continued to walk to the garbage can. His back was met with an array of snickers and giggles from Eric’s entourage. That was the first time Treacherous had actually felt embarrassed, and he didn’t know why. Usually, the other kids showed him respect or simply stayed out of his way. His resentment toward Eric intensified for making him the butt of the joke. Treacherous wondered what his dad or even his mother, for that matter, would have done in a situation like the one he had just endured. He excused the answers that had instantly popped in his head and made a beeline to the back door of the group home, headed to the recreation area.
Treacherous took a deep breath, knowing he had to pass the table again where Eric and his crew of jackals sat. Just as he was within ear range, the words that spilled out of Eric’s mouth tore into Treacherous like hot slugs:
“That’s why his mother tried to kill him ’cause he’s a fuckin’—”
Eric never got to finish his sentence. His words were interrupted and drowned out by the first puncture to his pudgy neck with the ballpoint pen Treacherous plunged into it.
“Fuck you! Fuck you!” Treacherous bellowed as he repeatedly stabbed Eric with the ink pen he had used to mark down his workout sets. Blood sprayed all over the faces of those who, just seconds ago, had participated in laughing at him. Their laughs had now turned into cries. With all of his might, Treacherous hammered the pen in and out of his victim’s neck. Those closest to the attack could hear the suction cup sound the ink pen made as it entered and exited. Eric went in and out of consciousness as Treacherous overpowered him. It took every staff member in the house, which consisted of four women and two men, to pry Treacherous away from Eric. Blood continued to spray everywhere as young Eric lay there, slumped over on the table and fighting for his life.
“Somebody! Get a towel!” one of the women who were trying to restrain Treacherous yelled in the direction of the other kids. Despite the adults holding on to him, Treacherous did not put up a fight. Instead, he stood there and stared at Eric, who stared back at him like he had done earlier that morning. Only this time, Eric’s eyes were wide-eyed and lifeless. All Treacherous could think about was what Eric had said that had pushed him to attack.
After receiving towels and other first aid equipment, the female staffers released Treacherous and left the men to restrain him. All the other kids stood in horror. None of them dared to look at Treacherous out of fear of being his next victim.
Moments later, sirens could be heard wailing in the air. The sirens were enough to break the trance Treacherous had fallen into. There was no doubt in his mind that they were coming for him. Treacherous knew he didn’t have much time.
“Get off me!” he yelled as he tried to get away, but the male staffers only tightened their grip.
“Calm down, Treach,” one of them ordered as their grip became even firmer.
“I said get the fuck off of me!” Treacherous roared before breaking free of one of the staff members and
throwing him off balance.
The other staff member immediately sprang into action. None of the staff had considered the inner strength one possessed when fueled by anger, and that was what Treacherous had in his favor. The male staffer’s intentions failed when Treacherous crouched down and delivered a right hook with all of his being into his groin area. He crouched over instantly.
Treacherous wasted no time taking flight. He bolted up the steps that led to his room. Without hesitation, he reached under his mattress and snatched up his mother’s journals. His adrenaline was now in overdrive, and his mind was moving at a rapid pace. He could hear the walkie-talkies down below and everyone snitching him out, revealing his whereabouts. One of the things he had learned from reading his mother’s memoirs was that his parents never gave up without a fight. Their motto had always been “No retreat; no surrender,” and now it was his.
Treacherous rushed over to the bedroom window. Then, he climbed out and onto the roof. He took one look over the roof and saw that the jump was at least fifteen feet, but he was going to rely on the bushes to break his fall. Without giving it a second thought, Treacherous exhaled and jumped off the roof.
As planned, he landed in the bushes. Despite the bushes easing the fall, they did not serve as the type of cushion Treacherous had hoped for. The fall had nearly knocked the wind out of him, and it dazed him for a few seconds, but, once he had regained his bearings, he gathered up the journals and slowly lifted himself up. Just as he was about to take flight for a second time, total darkness overcame him.
Chapter 3
Treacherous awoke to a chill. The blower from the ceiling blanketed him with cold air. His body was sore, and he had a splitting headache. Both the T-shirt and sweatpants he wore were torn. He knew his ripped clothing and soreness could be credited to his jumping off the roof and into the bushes. The handcuffs that attached his left wrist to the metal railing on the wall were enough confirmation of where he was, but he had no clue how he had gotten there. He was relieved to see his mother’s journals lying next to him on the wooden bench. With his free hand, he pulled the journals closer to him. Then, he reached for the spot that was throbbing in the back of his head. He winced from the pain that his touch had caused. He could feel a knot on the back of his head along with dried blood. As he felt around to see if he had any more head injuries, his examination was interrupted.
“Yeah, you little fuck. I bet that’ll teach you not to run from the police,” the red-faced, overweight officer stated proudly.
Treacherous remained silent.
“Yeah, you little niggers are all the same. All hard-core when you’re out there killing each other and selling your dope, but y’all turn into little pussies when you get caught.”
The officer grabbed his belt buckle and hiked up his uniform pants as if they were falling down. Treacherous massaged the outer part of his head injury in an attempt to ease the pain while the officer carried on.
“You’re lucky I didn’t knock your goddamn head off your shoulders, you little prick!”
The officer leaned into the bars and made an attempt to reach for Treacherous, who leaned away.
“There ain’t no ink pens in here, you sick little fuck!” the officer said, antagonizing Treacherous. “You’re going to fry,” he added.
“Rufus, that’s enough,” a commanding voice said out of nowhere.
Treacherous noticed the sarcastic grin that flashed across Officer Rufus’s face as he said, “Yes, sir, Captain.” He turned around and saluted. Right before he moved away from the cell, he turned and faced Treacherous.
“I’ll see you later, dipshit,” he whispered. Then, he made his exit.
As Officer Rufus exited, the face behind the voice that had instructed him to cease his verbal attack on Treacherous appeared. To Treacherous’s surprise, the voice belonged to a black man. He noticed the man held a manila folder in his hand.
“Are you okay, kid?” the captain asked.
Treacherous continued to remain silent. Another thing he had learned from reading about his parents was to never trust the police, no matter the color of their skin. Having witnessed the death of his mother at the hands of a black policeman was also more than enough for him to distrust and dislike any type of law enforcement.
“My name is Captain James Stanton. I’m with the Richmond County PD. I’m going to need to ask you some questions.” Captain Stanton walked over to the wall and retrieved the chair that was posted up against it. He pulled it over to the cell and took a seat.
“Can you tell me what happened between you and Mr. Allen?” Captain Stanton asked.
Treacherous stared at him oddly, as if he had just asked a confusing question, but that was not the case. He revisited the incident in his mind, trying to figure out what had happened.
“I need you to tell me why you attacked Mr. Allen,” the captain said, rephrasing his question.
Still, Treacherous said nothing. Instead, he sat in a daze as the images of Eric sped through his mind. His thoughts went back to the staring game he and Eric had played early that morning, and to the snickering of the other kids. His thoughts switched to the comment that sent him off the deep end, and to the countless stabs he had delivered to Eric’s neck.
The captain scratched his head in frustration and exhaled. Then, he offered, “Look, kid. I’m sure you didn’t mean for things to happen the way they turned out. You’re just a kid, but I can’t help you if you don’t help me understand what happened back there at that group home.”
If Treacherous had heard anything the captain said, he gave no indication. His blank stare only heightened the captain’s frustration. “You see this?” The captain pulled out a photo of Eric Allen’s deceased body. “This is what’s going to have you in a place like this for the rest of your life unless you tell me something and make me understand!” The captain’s frustration could be heard in his voice.
Treacherous glanced at the picture of Eric. He noticed that Eric’s eyes were now closed and that his body looked bluish as he lay in the nude. The only thing Treacherous could think about was how Eric wouldn’t be staring at him, or anyone else for that matter, anymore. The thought caused him to smile on the inside, or so he thought. Apparently, the smile had managed to surface on the outside.
“You think this is funny, kid?” The captain moved closer to the bars and asked, “You think taking a life is a joke?”
He slipped Eric’s picture back inside the envelope. Then, he pulled out two more.
“Are these funny to you?” the captain bellowed, flashing the two photos at Treacherous.
Treacherous stared at the photos long and hard. It took a minute for him to figure out who the male and female were in the two pictures. Like Eric, their bodies were also blue and their eyes were closed. When the realization of the identities kicked in, Treacherous turned away from them.
“Not so funny anymore, huh?” the captain spat. He hated having to resort to such measures, but he needed answers. “Now, unless you want to spend the rest of your life in prison, you need to help me understand why you attacked and killed Eric Allen.”
Treacherous replied by turning his back to Captain Stanton. As far as he was concerned, he didn’t have anything to say to the captain.
Captain Stanton shook his head in disbelief. His patience had officially run out with Treacherous. “Suit yourself, kid.”
Then, he stood up and said, “Hopefully, you’ll remember that I tried to help you before you end up like your parents.”
The captain was so caught up in shaking his head out of frustration that he never even noticed Treacherous’s sudden movement. He felt the liquid penetrate his left eye as he heard Treacherous’s baritone voice yell, “Fuck you!”
Once again, Treacherous flew into a blind rage at the mention of his parents. Luckily for the captain, the glob of spit Treacherous delivered to his face caused him to move out of reaching distance of him. With his free hand, Treacherous had tried to grab hold of the captain, b
ut he fell short.
“Fuck you! Fuck you!” he chanted as he had before when he attacked Eric Allen.
The captain stood back and watched as Treacherous ranted and raved. He no longer saw the young kid he had seen moments ago when he first entered the booking area. He had been in law enforcement long enough to recognize what the symptoms of Treacherous’s actions meant. He saw the murderous glare in Treacherous’s eyes. He knew there was nothing he could do or say to calm Treacherous. All he could do was leave him be. He knew the matter was deeper and was more than even he could handle. With that being his thought, the captain made his exit.
“Don’t worry, kid. We’re going to get you some help,” the captain said right before closing the door behind him.
Chapter 4
Treacherous sat in the chair with his hands folded. He scanned the enormous room. As he conducted his evaluation, what stood out the most were the various plaques and awards hanging on the walls of the office. In front of him sat a gold-plated sign that read GREGORY FLANNIGAN, PH.D.
“Hello, Treacherous. My name is Dr. Flannigan. How are you feeling this morning?”
Treacherous noticed a manila envelope sitting on the doctor’s desk. His mother’s memoirs, also, lay on the desk alongside the folder. He had no clue why he was in a doctor’s office, let alone why they had transferred him from the Richmond County Jail to a medical facility and not a juvenile detention center.
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