Thank You For The Venom

I thought the nightmares were getting better. Well more hoped. All the hope in me left when I woke up soaking wet to see Ronnie holding an empty glass that obviously just had water in it and Ryan kneeling on my bed, his hands on my shoulders where he had just been shaking me. Apparently they were unable to wake me. I was screaming and thrashing.
When I calm down Ronnie stumbles back to his room. “This isn’t okay. It’s been going on way too long.” Ryan asks, rubbing his eyes.
“Since I was fourteen?” I say. Yea okay that is a fucking long time. “Fucking nightmares.”
“Frank… I can see… that it’s not only night…” he sits on his bed facing me, “I know it’s more than nightmares.”
I shiver. “Yea.”
“Well if you ever want to talk or…”
“No it’s okay. Let’s go back to sleep now anyway,” I say. I don’t want to talk, what even is there to say.
When I fall back asleep the terrors continue. Sleep used to be my escape. Sometimes when I slept I’d face the terrors but sometimes I’d dream of nothing. Nothing nights were the best, like days of peace during my own war. In the day time I’d have to face the terrors that now haunt my sleep.

We all have texts the next morning from Stan. I have pasta ready for one. If you’re not in the gang this text probably looks fucking weird but pasta means plan. Just a code word in case people hack our phones. We all get to the flat at different times but all before one.
“Okay,” Stan says addressing the room crowded with the first three layers to the gang. The main fifteen people. The ones that have broken some sort of barrier to get into “the circle of trust” either by sticking around a while or by proving themselves someway. “So I was thinking about Ronnie’s car.”
I see Ronnie stand up straight. He’s still waiting for the tyre money.
“And I realise that they know all of us. Every one of us except one. One who thinks he’s fucking vital to the gang but obviously not fucking vital enough that he’s been noticed,” murmurs surround me. People playing a form of guess who. I know who he’s talking about though. “So I think we should send this vital person on a vital task to get into their gang.”
“Stop saying fucking vital Stan,” I growl. I don’t think I’m fucking “Vital”, Stan just wants to make me out as a cocky asshole. “I get you learned a new word today, well done,” I clap sarcastically, “But here’s another new one: Shutthefuckup”.
“Watch your mouth Iero or I won’t give you this vital task,” Stan says, narrowing his eyes. I only realise now that everyone is looking at me.
“So… how do we get Frank into their ranks… at all?” Someone says.
“The baker,” smiles Stan.
I’m pretty sure everyone raises eyebrows. Stan grins, he loves having knowledge the rest of us don’t. He feels fucking high and mighty like a fucking king not some white trash leader of a drug gang. “I might have stumbled in on a local baker’s meth lab.” Bursts of laughter bubble to the surface from everyone.
“What the fuck,” someone laughs, “Come on how really?”
“I’m serious. I found s fucking meth making baker who deals to MG. I promised I’d keep that secret but he owes me a favour. I’ll get him to get Frank a placement. He only knows me as David Fyrne so MG will not know he’s to do with us,” Stan looks smug and his grin eyes turn poisonous when they meet mine. Fuck him, he can’t now just send me off into another gang.
“But where will I live?” I ask.
“With MG. You’ll find out where they’re based. You’ll find out also who is in the gang. You can text me pictures. And most importantly you can find out who is the leader.”
“And kill him,” Jay says. His wounds have kept him from leaving the flat. He just gets more aggressive and restless with each passing hour.
“Yes.” Stan’s reply shocks most of us.
“You want me to kill this dude?” I say, shocked.
“Yep. Come with me, we’ll go to the bakers now,” Stan says and leads me toward the door. Everyone holds back their shock. “Oh and if any of you see Frank with others, don’t acknowledge him.”
Stan opens the door and walks into the hall. Ryan grabs my wrist and leans to my ear, “meet me in target Thursday at five if you can. Good luck,” he shoves me into the hall after Stan.

The bakery is down the road and around a block. We walk in and there’s three other customers there. The baker, a guy with crazy-ass hair tied back into a knot, sees Stan and his expression becomes a stiff polite one. When the customers leave the guy nervously fumbles with his apron. “Hi David,” he says.
“You still interested in doing me that one favour, Ray?” Stan says in a weird, southern almost, accent.
“Yes, sure,” he smiles.
“This is my nephew Frank. Well, he’s been having a tough time. All these tattoos and no one’s employing him,” he pokes the scorpion on my neck hard, “so I was wondering if you could get him in with your boys? He’s a good worker, not afraid to do the tough stuff either. I’m a bit like a marshmallow but he’s built for this kinda thing. Never been a soft boy.”
I don’t know how to take this description. Neither, it seems, does the Ray guy. He scratches his arm. “Well, I don’t know…”
Stan goes serious. “It’s not much to ask. They don’t even have to pay him. Just keep him off the streets at night, a place to sleep like. And some to eat. There’s only so much I can do for the boy,” Stan’s smile returns. This accent is really beginning to disturb me.
Ray gives an empathic smile, “Okay, they owe me this much. Frank,” he turns to me with a smile, “You can come on back, into my house, take a shower or something until Guy gets here. Would you like some bread? Cake? Pie?”
“No I’m good,” my voice takes him aback a little.
“How old are you?” Ray asks, handing a pie to “David”.
“Nineteen.”
“Oh good. That’s okay. I thought you were younger.”
“Everyone does.”
“Alright,” Stan butts in. “I really must be on my way. Thanks for pie and placement, you’re a good guy.”
“I do my best,” Ray smiles, bushing. “See you around!”
Stan leaves casting me a warning look. I follow Ray into the back where the ovens are. He sends me up the stairs and straight through to his landing. I had a shower this morning but whatever it was something to do.

Guy came as the bakery was closing. Ray went into the back to get a “special delivery of jam buns” and called me down. He gestured Guy into the kitchens with me. Ray explained my presence. Guy frowns. He’s not very tough looking. In fact he looks quite cool and smart for a guy here to collect a batch of meth. “You won’t even have to pay him, just food and a roof over his head.”
Guy’s forehead creases as if in deep thought. “Is there somewhere I could make a private call?” he asks after Ray has made a convincing speech considering he doesn’t actually know me.
“Up there.” I wait around in the kitchens while Ray goes out to close up shop and Guy makes the phone call.
“Frank is it?” Guy says rounding the corner back into the kitchen. “Help me carry these boxes. Welcome to MG. You better fucking watch yourself boy now.”
We scoop up the boxes and make our way out the front door and into the car. Ray waves us off, grinning with relief.
The MG headquarters is surprisingly close to my own apartment. A few blocks away. It will be easy enough to get to the target. We get out of the car parked in an alley and begin to walk deep into the shadows. After a while we come to a door. Guy unlocks it and we climb the stairs to the fifth and top floor. “We own the top three stories,” he says proudly knocking in a pattern on the door.
It opens soon after and I follow guy into a large kitchen/sitting room. The only two, small, windows look out onto another building though from here it’s only brick. In the kitchen area a guy with dyed black hair and fading jeans is standing over a bowl of instant noodles at the counter. In the living room part two guys sit watching a game and in the window sill overlooking nothing a tough as fuck looking girl sits on her phone. She looks like she’ll beat the shit out of you very easily.
“This the kid?” Noodles guy says.
“Yep,” Guy sets the baked goods box down on the kitchen table. I do the same.
“Ever do illegal shit before… Frank?” the guy says and then slurps his noodles. “We won’t judge.”
“I ran a supply of cigarettes and drink to kids when I was in school,” I say. A lie but a likely one. Saying I mixed cocaine and shot at addicts for five years would sound bad.
“That mustn’t have been easy, looking as young as you do,” the guy says taking another slurp and raising a single brow.
I naturally raise my defences, “yea it fucking wasn’t but it was money.”
“Good money too. But we pay better,” the guy smiles and finishes his noodles. Only now do I notice the photos and the words on the wall over the couch. All of them are photos of my friends and colleagues. There’s a photo of Ronnie’s car under Ronnie and beside that a photo of his old one. I try not to stare at it but its mesmerising. So many fucking faces I know. Most of them looking sort of drunk. Then I see the one of Chantel’s arm. And her face.
I shake myself slightly and look back at the guy with the growing out brown roots and dirty Iron Maiden hoodie. He’s measuring me with his eyes. Trying to figure out who I am. “Have you got any stuff? Like at all?”
“No, I was on the fucking street before this,” I say realising I actually have no clothes or weapons.
“Starting from the bottom,” the guy grins and puts his bowl in the sink he walks over to me and extends a hand, “I’m Gerard. Welcome to my gang.”

Notes

Hey y'all thanks for reading :) the plot really bgins now muahaha. I'll update when I next get the chance (I have school and stuff so..)
ALSO FANS OF OF MICE & MEN: the rumours about Austin drugging and raping that girl are false and terrible. People are so quick to think worse of others they'll believe that instagram comment that somehow went viral. I don't like to act like I know these people, because i don't, but this is 10000000000% not something Austin would do. Instead its someone looking to go viral with a lie that could really hurt a man who has quite frankly saved my life. ZCFYGVBHJNOK people can be soooo mean. ANyway sorry: rant over :)