The time for chapter one to be posted. Yes, there will be grammatical errors. Lots of them. Yes, it's shitty. Fuck you, read my fucking piece of shit. I'll eventually rewrite it, but this is my rough draft basically, so, enjoy.
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Empire, the City of Dreams, the place where you can become what you've always desired. Sounds too good to be true, doesn't it? Well, that's because it is too good to be true. From a distance, Empire is a beautiful city; once you've entered, though, that's when you realizethe shithole you've just entered. Behind the gilded stories, behind the beautiful brightly lit skyscrapers and behind everything you've ever heard, lies the truth: This is the City of Shattered Dreams. Most of the citizenz of Empire haverealized this, something I've experienced first-hand. This is my story, the story of Brandon Clarke
Chapter One: Deceived
Growing up in a place like Empire can either be really easy, or really hard; we didn't struggle like most, but we didn't have it that easy, either. My father worked 2 jobs for a while to support me and my younger brother, my mother stayed at home---my dad didn't think women should work. During those times, things weren't the best, but when my dad got his new job that seemed to pay pretty good, that's when things got much easier. He said he worked as a salesman and so we believed him, not even my mother knew the full extent of his 'job.' A few things you should know about my father that would probably help you make more sense of this; he used to be a boxer before he met my mother, he used to be a damn good one, too. Though, when he fell in love, he decided to give it up and try to do something else with his life. It probably wasn't his best move in life, but he thought he had to do it. What my dad really did, though, shocked me all to hell when I found out. My father worked for a very powerful man in the city of Empire. Henry Simon was a the biggest crime boss there ever was, he practically ran the town, seeing as he had almost every cop in his back pocket. The man could kill whoever he wanted to and nobody would even question it. Now what my father did for him was pay special visits to certain people and do a little bit of "negtiation." To put it bluntly, my father was a thug that forced people that didn't pay Simon his money to either pay, or be killed. Frank Clarke really was a good man, but my father had to do things against his own morals to keep my family fed and it ultimately cost him his life. The day I found out what my father really did changed my entire life in ways I couldn't ever imagine. That day started like most other normal days; wake up, go to school, come home and do some chores, your typical day for an 11-year-old boy. Around 5:30, I had just finished my homework and my father had just received a call from "the office." Now, normally I wouldn't pay much attention to my father while on the phone, but tonight was different. When my father set the receiver down, a look of digust spread across my father's face. My mother asked him what was wrong and he just told her, "The boss just wants me to come in on my day off, you know how hard they work me.. now they want to work me even harder." It appeared the answer had sufficed for my mother, but for a curious 11-year-old, it only heightened curiousity. My father picked up his coat and went out the door after kissing my mother goodbye, after my father was out the door, I quickly decided to try and go follow him. I had to know what my father did, even if it was the most boring thing I've ever seen. After getting permission from my mother, I quickly slipped outside and barely caught my father turning around a corner. For some reason, my father hardly ever drove the car to whereever it was he went, he usually always walked. I quickly hurried in the waning daylight, the cold whipping against my face as I went to go get close enough to my father. After about 10-to-15 minutes of following, he stopped in an alley where he met up with a few guys. One of the men turned to my father, talking to him a bit, "So, you think you can handle this one, Frank? Mr. Simon would be very thankful if you got the job done and done very quickly." My father looked away for a brief second, turning his head back to the man and he quietly spoke, "If Mr. Simon wants this job done, I'll get it done. When have I ever not delivered, Sid? You tell me." A smirk spread across the man's face as he looked to the man to his left, "Well, Frank, if you for some reason you fuck up tonight, you know what will happen. Me and Jack don't want to have to do that to you, Frank, but we will." I noticed my father's fist clenched tightly as he looked to the two men, "It will not ever come to that, ever." Both men nodded in unison What I saw next made my eyes go wide, my father reached into his coat and pulled out a gun. I couldn't believe it. A man who told me and my younger brother Chris thatviolence was never the answer wasthe same man who just pulled out a gun. It all hit me like an 80-pound fist; the silenceat the dinner table when one of us mentioned work, the disgusted looks, the secrecy, it all just made so much sense now.My father lied to us, he wasn't a salesman, he was a thug. I don't know what I actually thought at that moment, but it probably was something very unkind towards my father. They gave him a slip a paper and my father was quickly on his way I didn't know it, but I was next to an apartment complex, which he had just entered. Following himin, I tried to keep as quiet as I possibly could, following him from an entire staircase's length behind. They went up to the third floor, not caringabout the noise he was making. Upon reaching the third floor, he found the apartment number they were looking foor. My father knocked on the door, which was soon answered by a young boy, which was met by a horrified look on my father's face. What I didn't know was that my father was told to kill the man in that apartment and all that were they, he was assured they would be no women or children there. Someone was wrong. My father went inside, probably to talk to the man, so I thought. After a few minutes, I heard a very loud sound. A gunshot. Just one,then my father walked from the building. He was off to meet those men again and I was off, going back home before it got too late. What my father didn't know, what was going to lead to a series of tragic events, was that he had just killed the wrong man. As I lay in bed that night, the events from the previous hours were unfolded again in my head. Hearing those men's words, watching my father pull the gun out and the one gunshot I will never forget. The next few days rolled by and the weekend was quickly upon me. If it were not for a decision I had made the night before, I wouldn't be telling you this story. My best friend had asked me to spend the night after school let out on Thursday and I accepted. So, once school was over on Friday, I left with him to his house. My father had gotten the word that he "fucked up" from those two men the previous night. He didn't know what to think, he was a total wreck wh-en I left for school on Friday. The events that occured that night I never saw, but I've got a very accurate description. It was around midnight, my family was asleep. My younger brother Chris, my father and my mother, all sleeping with not the slightest idea of what's to come. My father was still a wreck, though, he told Mr. Simon he'd fix the problem, but once you make a mistake, that's it. He had planned to le- ave in the morning, get out of town, thinking Simon wouldn't strike so soon. He was wrong, so very wrong. The two men that were with my father the day I discovered his secret, had a job to do and they weren't about to fail it Around midnight on that cold winter night, they snuck into my house, with intentions to do more than harm. They snuck into my little brother's, grabbing him up from his dreams. They were about to do something so sick, something so very wrong. Moving into my parent's room, they clutched my brother close, gun against his head. Waking my father and mother up, the two men stared into my father's eyes, "You fucked up, Frank. You fucked up really bad, Mr. Simon is in a hole right now because of the mistake you made. I told you not to fucking mess that job up, but you still managed to do it." My father's eyes were wide, my mother was crying, both knew what was going to come. My father did his best to plead with the man, "Sid, you don't have to do this, I can fix everything. Please, don't do this.." The man's eyes were cold and emotionless as he held my brother tightly, gun against his head, "We're going to make your final moments the most unbearable moments of your life.." He looked to the other man who had his gun pointed at my parents and he smiled. My mother, from what I was told, was screaming and pleading with the men, my father could do nothing, he knew there was no way out of it. The man's finger squeezed on the trigger of the gun against my brother's head, putting a bullet through his young head in front of my parent's eyes. Moments after that, my father and mother were both shot and killed. I wonder what could've gone through my mother and father's head as they watched a grown man put a bullet into the head of a 7-year-old child without any hesitation. I wouldn't actually want to know the terror they experienced.
