The Rise Of A Broken Man

Five

“Are you seriously going to leave town because of the people that don’t care about you?” Hector asked, sitting on the worn couch in Devon’s room.

“What else could I do. I feel like I’m going to suffocate if I hear one more thing about them, and seeing how they live while I live like this?” he shook his head. “It's not enough. I need to get myself out of here and find something better for myself.”

Hector knew he was right, but he wasn’t sure he had anything right now. He was going to have to ask around for something better, something that wouldn’t take him far but also wouldn’t keep him here, and good enough to pay better than what he was already earning.

Sighing, he nodded his head. “Fine, but you need to give me a few days.”

Devon raised his head to look at him, a small frown creasing his forehead. “Why?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Hector shrugged. “So I can find something for you.” He said.

The corner of Devon’s mouth lifted in a small smile. “You don’t have to do that. I’m sure I can work something out.”

“Work what out exactly? You don’t even know anyone out here except for me and the boss, and the guys we work with.”

Devon leaned back against the wall, the peeling paint cool against the back of his neck. He ran a hand over his short hair, letting out a slow breath. “I’ll figure something out. I always do.” he said, even though that wasn't as easy as he had said it.

Figuring out how to avoid people who wanted a flesh of you in prison wasn't the same as figuring out how to get something good enough to make him rich overnight. Something that would give him just the right momentum he needed.

Hector gave him a dry laugh. “Yeah? And what? You're going to hit the road with a duffel bag and fifty bucks, maybe a hundred if you get paid for the month’s work you haven't finish? You’ll ‘figure it out’ somewhere between here and nowhere?”

Devon’s jaw tightened. “It’s not like staying here is doing me any favors, Hector.” If anything, he was dying slowly just by being in this place.

Actually, that was a lie. Being here wasn't the problem, not one bit. It was the fact that he was here as nothing while they were still big deals, and if he wanted to get his revenge, slumming it like this wasn't going to do the job.

It would suffocate him instead.

“I’m not saying it is,” Hector said, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “But running without a plan is just another way to crash, man. You got out clean. You got a job. A roof. That’s more than most guys from inside ever get. Don’t throw it away because some ghosts decided to show up.”

Devon’s eyes hardened. “They’re not ghosts, Hector. They’re the reason I lost twelve years of my life. You don’t get it. I see them, and it’s like… like I’m right back there again. All of it. The sirens, the courtroom, the cuffs.” He looked away, swallowing hard. “I can’t breathe when I think about them.”

For a long moment, the room was quiet except for the faint hum of the old fridge in the room. Hector rubbed the back of his neck, then he sighed. “I do get it, man. Maybe not all of it, but I’ve had my share of people I wanted to erase. But running ain’t erasing, it’s just carrying it with you to a new place.”

Devon’s laugh was bitter, humorless. “You sound like one of those counselors they used to bring in back inside.” he said.

“Yeah, well, maybe one of ‘em got through to me.”

That earned him the faintest twitch of a smile. Devon looked down at his hands, calloused and nicked from work, then said quietly, “I just need distance. That’s all. Somewhere that doesn’t remind me of them.”

Hector studied him for a moment, thinking about what he was feeling inside, how everything was painful for him, and finally nodded. “Alright. Distance I can work with. But promise me you’ll let me help this time. No disappearing in the middle of the night like some damn fugitive.”

Devon’s lips curved slightly. “You make it sound like I’ve got practice.”

“You do,” Hector shot back, pointing a finger at him. “And that’s exactly why I’m saying it.” He leaned back, exhaling. “Give me three days. I’ll ask around. Maybe Miguel’s cousin still needs help at that vineyard over in Valemont. He's the manager there or something. And the pays better too.”

Devon hesitated, thinking about that. Valenont was just outside of this place, but good enough, so he nodded once. “Three days, huh? Okay then.”

“Good.” Hector stood, stretching. “And while I’m working my magic, you try to stay out of your own head for a while. Go for a run. Fix something that’s not broken. I don’t care. Just don’t do the disappearing act.”

Devon smirked faintly, though his eyes were still tired. “No promises.” He was surely tired as well, tired from all the hands he was dealt.

“Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of.” Hector grabbed his keys from the table and headed for the door. “Text me if you change your mind, or if you decide to shave that thing you call a beard.”

Devon threw his head back to laugh. “Get out of here.” he said, laughing more as Hector made a face as he walked to the door.

As the door shut behind him, the apartment sank back into silence. Devon sat there for a long time, staring at the spot Hector had just been.

Three days, he thought. He could hold it together for three more days, maybe. Hopefully, Ethan or anyone from that family wouldn’t cross his path anymore for those three days, or he might actually lose his shit again, and that was the last thing he wanted.