The color drained from Tommy's face. He should've known Drake would not let him off after trying to bash his baby brother's head with a beer bottle. He began reasoning about how one punch to the face did not seem like that bad of a compromise, considering that Drake Ariel had hospitalized most of his victims. In his mind, Tommy began comparing his assailant to the various boxers that he had fought before, and he realized he should not be as worried as he once assumed.

"Okay, I deserve a punch to the face," Tommy said, and Drake released his arm. Blood came rushing down towards his sleeping fingers as he dropped the bottle. Tommy put his feet shoulder-width apart and braced himself for impact while making sure his head would hit grass if it knocked him unconscious.

Drake stared at him. His black eyes were like two dark caves, and fear of the unknown would reflect off them and into the hearts of his victims. Drake had yet to wind up or even take a stance, but before Tommy realized it, his opponent seemed to slide the distance between them. The last thing that Tommy Phillips ever saw of Drake Ariel was his black leather boot.

The kick was as strong as a sledgehammer and it catapulted Tommy backward while his neck snapped with a loud crunch, and he landed a few feet away.

"I never said I was going to punch you, moron," Drake showed no mercy as he glared at the crumpled body on the ground, and he spun on the spot and began walking towards Jonas. The dark menace looked at Leeanna and her instinct was to shrink back, but she found enough courage to hold Jonas' hand.

"It's time to go home. I work in the morning," he said, and his younger brother nodded his head obediently.

"Have a good night," Jonas kissed Leeanna, "Text me?"

"Mm, I'm sorry," Leeanna said, "It's my fault."

"I'll let you make it up to me," he said with a wink, and then she watched the two brothers disappear into the darkness.

Jonas and Drake silently walked through the forest, and after a few minutes, they came across a vacant parking lot where Jonas spotted the familiar sight of his brother's black Mustang.

"Come here," said Drake, and Jonas halted right in front of him. Jonas was the only person who would stand so close to him and not have the urge to run away, and while most people saw a coldness in those black eyes, Jonas saw a hidden warmth that made him think of home. Drake's icy hands rose and gripped his younger brother's face.

"Fuck," he mumbled, as his brother popped his nose back into place.

"Stop whining," said Drake.

"You could've been gentler," Jonas touched his nose, "This face is my money-maker," and Drake smirked as they both entered the car. The engine roared to life as he turned the key over, and Jonas began fiddling with the radio. The car lurched forward and the two brothers drove off into the night, while loud rap music was playing in the background.

"That was stupid of you to turn your back on him," said Drake.

"Honestly, I wasn't in the mood to fight that asshole," Jonas turned the volume down.

"Of course not," Drake said, "Nobody wants to fight after fucking. Regardless, you should have just ended things. No matter how many times I tell you otherwise, you always try to be a pacifist."

"How did you know I fucked her?"

"I could smell it," said Drake. He saw the expression of disgust on Jonas' face and let loose a slight smirk, "I'm kidding, you idiot. I saw you sneak off into the woods with her, and you came back looking way too relaxed. Regardless, why would you let him hit you?"

"I fucked his ex-girl," Jonas sighed, "I deserved a punch. I just hoped he'd keep his word and we could go back to having a peaceful night."

"Naïve," said Drake, "You can only have peace if you're the strongest guy in the room. You should've knocked him out and then peace would have come."

"Hah, you're right," Jonas conceded and gave his brother a cute smile.

"Don't be so cheeky. Did you wear a condom?"

"No, I didn't bring one."

"Idiot. Do you want to knock up some strange chick?"

"Leeanna was pretty cool, so why not?"

"Is this some sick, strange way of rebelling against me?" Drake bemused, "If you knock her up, then I'll have to let you get a job?"

"Do I look like the kind of person who would do that?"

"You're exactly the kind of person who would do something like that. I'm your big brother, I know you best. You always do the most impulsive shit to get your way. It's like you have something to prove, and you don't care about the consequences, as long as you can prove yourself," and Drake clicked his tongue, obviously frustrated.

"Are you the one to lecture me about being impulsive?" Jonas scoffed, "Sure I have a roundabout way of doing things, while you just beat the problem until it's gone."

"We can't afford a baby, raising a kid is expensive," Drake felt like the conversation had steered away from its original purpose, "I know from experience."

"Her parents are rich. At least the kid could grow up better than we ever did," he added, "She'll take a pill though, I know she wouldn't want to have a kid with me."

"You have issues," said Drake.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

"Coming from you?" quipped Jonas, as he leaned over and grabbed a beer from Drake's back seat, "Can we go have a few drinks at our spot?"

"Alright, but not for too long," Drake said, and it was about an hour after midnight when they reached Rutgers Overlook.

In the seventies, Rutgers Overlook was a popular kissing spot for teenage couples, but over the years the townsfolk had abandoned and forgotten about it. The only two people who frequented the hilltop were two brothers sitting on the hood of a black Mustang, chugging beers, and tossing the cans as far as they could. Rutgers Overlook had the best view of the stars in all of Lasatus Kansas, and it was their good fortune that their parents had shown them the spot.

"What's bugging you?" asked Drake.

"Why would you assume something is bugging me?"

"We only come here when something is eating at you," said Drake, as he pounded back another beer.

"It's nothing," said Jonas, "I've just been thinking a lot about mom and dad. It's almost been ten years since they died."

"I think about them too," Drake said, "I think they'd be proud of you though."

"I doubt our religious, church-going parents would approve of me drinking, smoking, and fucking my way through my teenage years," which caused Drake to scrunch his eyebrows in confusion.

"Jonas, you must be drunk because our parents had never set foot in a church."

"Get your brain checked," Jonas also scrunched his eyebrows, "I know they went to church," but his confidence wavered as the cloudy memories of his parents attempted to resurface.

"What makes you think that?" Drake asked.

"I remember," Jonas began, "I remember the time when they tried to force you to wear that bowtie to Sunday school, but you weren't having it."

"Huh," Drake thought back, "No wonder I blocked the memories out."

"You don't remember our parents going to church?" Jonas sighed, "This has been happening more often."

"What do you mean?" Drake asked.

"My mind has been playing tricks on me. It seems like every time we talk, I find out another one of my memories is all wrong."

"Don't worry about it, Jo," Drake gave a reassuring smile, "It's not uncommon for children with childhood trauma to make up memories."

"It's getting worse by the day" Jonas' voice became frustrated, "Drake, be honest with me for a second."

"I'm always honest with you," said Drake.

"That trauma you keep talking about, what are you referring to?"

"The sudden death of our parents, in and out of various foster homes, physical abuse, emotional abuse, and neglect."

"I remember most of that," Jonas let out a fake yawn, but deep inside there was a growing suspicion that his brother was hiding something much darker. It was like a very twisted snake that enjoyed uncoiling itself while he tried to sleep at night.

"That's a lot for any person to go through," said Drake, "Kids shouldn't have to be raised by other kids, and it's hard to come out of the system wholesome when adults have let you down your entire life."

"Tell me how they died again," Jonas asked, "I'm missing something."

"Jesus, Jonas," Drake sighed, "I wasn't there, you know that."

"I'm not accusing you," Jonas began rubbing his temples, trying to subside his new headache, "I just can't remember now, and it's bugging me."

"They died in a house fire. I was ten years old, and you were eight. All I remember was the cops coming to pick us up at school, and then we stayed at the orphanage for a few weeks while they tried to figure out what to do with us."

"Did they say how the fire started?"

"Cigarette," said Drake.

"Our parents didn't smoke!" Jonas looked bewildered.

"Of course, they did," Drake shot him a look, "I used to sneak some out of dad's pack."

"Fuck!" Jonas yelled, "I can't remember any of that…" and his voice trailed off as a miserable expression appeared on his face.

"Easy, buddy," Drake's voice was as soothing as it could be.

"Sometimes I hate being alive," Jonas sighed, "Sometimes I just feel like there is this hole inside me and no matter how hard I try to fill it with alcohol, smokes, or sex, nothing seems to satisfy it."

"You're not empty," Drake said, "You have much more life inside you than you care to realize. If you feel you have a hole inside you, why don't you try filling it with something productive that you're passionate about."

"That's the problem, Drake," said Jonas, "I'm not passionate about anything."

"You love football, don't you?" Drake asked, "Do you think the Chiefs will go all the way this year?"

"I think we can," Jonas added, "You could have gone pro if you had accepted that scholarship instead of dropping out."

"We needed money," said Drake, "College kids don't get paid, and that includes five-star recruits. If I couldn't pay the bills, we would have never got out of the system," but seeing that he hadn't convinced his younger brother, he added, "Making pizzas isn't a bad gig, at least we get to eat for free."

"Mm," mumbled Jonas with glazed eyes as he stared at the stars.

"Why don't you try out for the team?" Drake said, "You might not have the arm strength, but you're faster than I ever was. You'd make a good wide receiver and five years from now you'll be catching touchdowns from Patrick Mahomes."

"Would it make you happy if I joined the team?"

"It's not about my happiness," said Drake, "It's about your happiness. Just consider it for a second. You could get the scholarship that I missed out on, and you could live that kind of extravagant life that I'll never get to live."

"If I ever made the pros," said Jonas, "You would live an extravagant lifestyle right by my side. What's the point of living a good life if I don't have my best friend with me to enjoy it," and Drake felt his heart melt for just a moment as he punched Jonas' arm.

Maybe it was the sweet-talking, or he just enjoyed spending time with his younger brother, but the two stayed out much longer than they had intended, crushing beers at Rutgers Overlook all while wondering how many receiving yards Jonas would have in his rookie year.

Time soon passed as they ran out of both beer and conversation material, but that was not until the sun had already risen. Drake checked his cellphone and clicked his tongue.

"It's seven in the morning, you've got school soon," which did not bother Jonas much as he never got a lot of sleep.

"Let's go then," Jonas slid off the hood of the car and began stretching. Taking one last glance at their town that was just waking up. The two boys hopped in the Mustang and began heading home. About halfway down the hill, Jonas said, "You know, I think I might go try out for the team after school today."

"The season is almost halfway over, but Coach Kraemer would never say no to having you on his team," Drake smiled, "I'm happy for you, I think you'll enjoy it."

A loud bang startled the two brothers. Jonas felt his entire body lurch to the side, and he went unconscious as his head cracked against the window. Drake had no time to register the fact his car had just swerved off the hill before his mind also slipped into darkness.

Like a heavy ball, the car built up momentum as it continued rolling down the hill, crushing trees and rocks, while pieces of the black body littered the forest. When the speeding wreckage approached the bottom, it crashed through the glass roof of a daycare that was built just at the foot of Rutgers Overlook.

Atop the hill stood a cloaked figure who stared down at the carnage while they smirked at the distant sounds of screaming children.

"See you in Hell, boys."