Finally, he thought as he placed the wooden sign above the door of his new business. A quiet nook where I can relax and get away from the rough life of crime, for at least a couple of hours. Thomas "Narrator" Wilson had always been a bookworm, how else could you get a nickname like Narrator. Growing up in a rundown apartment right above the local laundromat, books were all he had to escape the harsh realities of living alone for days at a time while his mother ran off with the guy of the month and the times she was around were even worse than when she wasn't. She despised Narrator, constantly berated him for allegedly robbing her of the youth and beauty she had. Wasn't true, it was shooting up every day after he was born that took both of those things away. She didn't dare to lay a finger on him though; she learned that early on from Thomas' father, and she carried that lesson even after his father passed.

Narrator's father was a man that others looked up to; his father was the ultimate protagonist in his eyes. Sure he was a mobster, but as far as wise guys go he was the best you could have hoped for when dealing with the Demarco crew. Robert "Bobby" Wilson was the type of guy you could go to when you were behind on your rent; when you knew you would be behind on your protection payment for this month. Lenient the man was. He never had to raise his voice or threaten others because they knew if you couldn't make it work with Bobby you'd be better off leaving the state.

Sadly kindness doesn't last in the type of business Bobby dealt in. Eventually, someone takes that kindness as weakness. The Demarco crew was never supposed to be more than a couple of friends making a living and helping out around their neighborhood. There were always problems here and there, nothing some roughing up couldn't fix. That was until they roughed up the wrong guy. Never learned the man's name, all I know is what my godfather Richard told me. The man was caught breaking into the local bookie's apartment. Apparently, he was in the hole several thousand. Not a big problem, the real problem was what he did to the bookie's wife. Poor girl, she was there cooking a nice roast to surprise the bookie on their anniversary. She was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. She didn't hear him at first since the guy was crafty with locks, it wasn't until he was several steps into the living room that he noticed he wasn't alone in the home. He didn't have to do what he did, he could have walked away and no one would have known anyone was there, but he felt he was cheated out of his hard earned money.

The bookie came home to find his wife face down on the kitchen floor. She lived, well she was breathing, but she didn't have much of a life after that day. Bastard rearranged her face so badly that she never left the house again until she was carried out by forensics, hanged herself leaving a note that said she couldn't live with what she saw in the mirror. 

The word at the time was the man worked for a local crime boss. The Demarco crew figured that to a crime boss, one less drug runner was nothing. The info they got was wrong though, not completely but it left out one important fact. The guy didn't just work for the crime boss, he was his nephew. One guy lying in a ditch changed the lives of hundreds of people the day the Demarco crew decided to send a message that no one would fuck with their neighborhood. 

One death turned into four, then eleven and so on and so on. By the end, all that was left of the Demarco crew was the youngest Demarco, Bobby, and a couple of local schmucks with guns. They put the rest of the money they had saved towards turning a couple of the local boss' corrupt cops against him. They had it all set the boss would be pulled over on the deserted road towards his home, and they would be on both sides of the road hidden in the tall grass. Well, sometimes plan's don't always go as smooth as you had imagined. Turns out the cops were very deep in the crime boss' pockets, so deep that what the Demarco crew had offered was nothing more than a holiday bonus compared to what they were getting for their dirty work.

By the end of the shootout, Bobby was lying in the grass with 13 holes in him, and the young Demarco fled knowing his life was never going to be safe now that he no longer controlled the street on which he grew up on.

It wasn't until Narrator was a young man that he was offered a chance at a different life, a life where he could provide for himself without needing his mother. It was a typical night for young Narrator, he was in his barricaded room trying to drown out the screams of his mother calling him worthless by getting lost in a new book he just picked up. Mother's new "friend" had enough of her wailing and thought the best course of action was to break down the door so he could confront his mother like a man. Narrator began to pile up more furniture against the door, but the door wouldn't hold much longer. After five kicks the door broke, but no one entered, after a moment of blissful silence his mother began shouting.

"Who the fuck are you! Oh my god is he dead!" she said.

"Shut the hell up and take him and your sorry ass out to the hallway, I have some business with that young man in there." said the man as he walked through the splintered door and stepped over the fallen furniture.

"Hey kid, it's nice to finally meet you. The name's Richard, your father was like a brother to me."