Because It Was My Job - John Reeves (reading the story of the txt) 📗

Part 1
The first time I was ever arrested fear consumed my body. After being in there for two days I realized it wasn't so bad. It was a helluva lot better than being beat by my old man. Not that I was a good kid, but that son of a bitch he'd come home pissed about his low paying factory job angry and half drunk.
"Alice? Where is my Goddamn food?" He'd shout at my mother.
That old mother fucker didn't care about that food. He wanted something to shout at mom about. He'd sit there in his chair drinking his beer not even thinking about food. His attention would turn to me, the only kid of the five still living at home.
"Stanley?" He'd shout.
I'd say something like "Yes Dad."
"Get the fuck in here." When he said that I knew he was fixing to ask about the homework from school, then start slapping me around the whole time he expects me to try and do it.
I always knew his philosophy on getting an education. There wasn't a day that would go by that he didn't talk about hating that factory. Constantly reminding me that with no education I too would be there. I couldn't ever understand why he was complaining. The man had a steak every night for dinner while my mother and me ate sandwiches.
There was no compassion in my home, my mother cowered down when dad intimidated her. I guess I noticed at a young age the power he held inside the household. The way he controlled us like puppets was something that I took as bad people had the power. I was lead to believe that when someone didn't agree with the angry one, that they too must be dealt with properly to assure the point was delivered.
When we moved to Macon, Georgia is was somewhat a culture shock. I didn't seem to fit in coming from northeast Ohio. There was this guy who everyone was afraid of, I could see the way he had the other children terrified of him. This was something a new kid notices fairly quickly. Even the teachers could see this guys attitude problems. He looked for me the was a lion looks for raw meat. It wasn't then I realized the power struggles to come. Something in my way of thinking kept the facts somewhat hidden.
The school bully knew the other children didn't like me so he began giving me hell. The day I was waiting on the school bus the whole thing came to a head. He walked up grabbing me, then slamming me to the ground. He saw that I wasn't getting up but, to make his point to the others that he was still the toughest guy in the school, he beat me on the ground. There were no teachers to see it, when the bus rolled up, he allowed me to get off the ground.
I had dirt all over me and my clothes were torn. When I came home the thoughts were going through my mind, what would my dad do this time. When he came in cursing to the top of his lungs, I guess I knew the time wasn't right to tell him about the fight. When dinner came around I told him about the bully.
"Well boy if you weren't a pussy, you might be able to hold your own." His words angered me further.
I had come to see the only difference between my old man and the bully was age. Both of them keep taking until someone stops them. I clearly had enough of others bullying me.
"You think your so tough dad?" I spoke before fear wouldn't allow me to.
He got up from his chair grabbing me up by my shit, then slapped me to the floor.
"Get up boy, and I'll knock you down again." He dared me to get up and fight him.
My mother sat there with her mouth shut, so he didn't hit her too. I didn't get up and fight, there was the overwhelming feeling of anger. I picked myself up off the floor, then just went to my room. With all the lights off I sat there wondering what I could do to never be hurt again, physically or emotionally. The one thing I noticed was the bully and my father both demanded a level of power. While thinking that I sat there in the dark making a promise to myself. That promise was that nobody was going to fuck with me anymore.I pulled out my knife and held it as I fell asleep. It was that next morning I woke with it still in my hands.I had knew that nobody would hurt me again.
As I got on the bus the bowie knife was tucked inside the band of my jeans. When I stepped off the bus I saw that big bully who intimidated me and the others. When I approached him he knew something was going to happen, I knew that much as well. The other kids moved away from him as I got closer, then he opened his arms to invite me into another severe beating. That was one ass kicking I wasn't going to take. The decision was really made in my mind.
When I was close enough without him seeing me pull the weapon, I pulled it out stabbing him one time in the stomach. I could see the fear inside his eyes. After that I blacked out in a fit of rage. The report from the police department said that I stabbed and slashed him over fifty times. I really don't recall that, but I can remember all the blood on me, the ground and covering the knife.
The students at the school ran as if they'd seen a monster. Within minutes the police, ambulance and rescue were attending to the situation. There at some point I was handcuffed then put in the back of the squad car. There were laws and I broke them within a minute. The charges would come, however I had no conscious awareness of the situation at hand. The rude manor in which the officers treated me indicated it wasn't going to be paradise.
I was taken to the city jail were they held me. Thoughts crossed my mind of the perverted things I'd heard about jail. There was that promise I'd made myself to never be walked on by anyone, even the men in jail. I was being tried as an adult on the charge of first degree murder. The court appointed lawyer began meeting up with me after about three weeks. Most of the shit he spoke about I didn't even understand.
I did quite a bit of time before the court date came around. The lawyer I had was really good, he moved around the courtroom explaining how the guy had been torturing other children. I was sentenced to ten years with the possibilities of an early release with good behavior. Everything I thought was going to be so horrible actually wasn't. Locked up with guys older than me, more wise, and willing to pass their knowledge. I got my high school diploma in there, but I also got a lesson in crime.


Part 2
I went in a boy and came out a man. The whole time I'd been locked up my parents never called. They must have told my brothers not to call as well, because I never received a call from anyone. I thought fuck them when the urge came on to tell them I was in the free world again. Crime was all I knew, so I went to the local bar to have a few beers, maybe catch a drunk with a full pocket. When I found the right guy I'd wait for him to go. Then follow him outside where I'd mugged him for his cash.
It gave me some walking around money but, I needed to do it a couple more times. I bought me a hot gun to help me get what I needed. I looked at the gun as power, and the power was what I wanted to obtain. Soon I covered too much ground in Georgia deciding to move on. I moved the show on the road south to Florida.
When the money ran out I found mom and pop shops to rob, with a typical gun point robbery. I didn't think them people needed it anyway, they sit there all day taking money, there would be more coming to them. I always told them not to make me shoot them. They knew the .45 revolver wasn't anything to play with. So long as they realized the money wasn't worth their life we were fine. Because I would have shot any of them not doing as I asked. Only once did I have to actually kill a man while robbing the stores. To see that young man fall to the floor dead didn't bother me at all, but the kid who had his whole life in front of him went for the phone.
I got hooked up with this group of guys just out of Fort Lauderdale. They were the biker type, you know leather jackets and shit. The first night I met them in the roadhouse bar they talked big, they walked around with an feeling of confidence. Had I not wanted to draw attention to myself I'd have engaged in violence with all of them. I couldn't stand the arrogance. This group was a bunch of petty crime outlaws pushing their way around. I decided to see what they were all about.
"So you guys wanna play some pool?" I had about forty bucks to my name. I was willing to bet it against them.
"How much money you got?" The guy asked me.
I pulled all of it out of my pocket. I held it out in plain sight for him to see.
"That's chump money, but I'll play you for it." His cocky mouth was pissing me off.
I was going to take his money then I was going to kill him. If needed I'd kill everyone of them. There was eight of them and I was sure I'd be able to kill them. When the game started I knew I was going to win, I'd played pool with guys who made a living at the table. When he lost his money he became angry. I actually thought he might not pay me.
When he got angry the bartender had a look of fear. Others slipped out the front door in fear of what seemingly was about to go down. The man tossed my money he owed me across the table. When he turned and walked out I had to smile. There those tough guys were walking out of a bar they practically owned. I could feel