Recurrent

I believe I started this fanfic during the hiatus between Seasons 1 and 2. I still have to finish the final chapters, but here's what I have so far...

Part I

The name’s Eduardo Cruz. Some people know me as Eddie, but most of the time I’m called other names.

“…a pathetic excuse for a son. I wish you’d never been born!”

You can thank my drunken ass dad for that one. I never knew what my mom saw in that jerk.

“You’re a loser who’ll never amount to anything!”

That one’s from my high school principal, Mr. Bosch, the pervert who’d reconsider revising girls’ low GPA if they’d come by his office after school. There’s a role model for you.

“When’re you gonna get a job, you lazy punk?”

And, of course, my very loud, and very, pregnant girl Marie. How lucky am I to have knocked her up?

My life hasn’t been easy: dropped out of school, did my time in juvee, even been busted for possession by the LAPD. In a word, troublemaker, but right now I just want to nuke my damned burger, which is now cold from all of Marie’s nagging.

“Lemme just eat first, M!” I snapped. “Can’t you sit your ass down and shut up for a minute?”

“Oh, no you didn’t!” She angrily marched up to me. “You better show me some respect, Eddie, ‘cause I ain’t taking this crap from you no more. We have a baby coming and you better get your act together and quick!”

There she goes again, waving the baby flag in my face as always. Besides my usual “fix,” she knows that’s the only other thing that keeps me in check. Esperanza; we agreed naming her after my late mom. It means hope and all I want is to give my baby the life I don’t have. But her mom’s attitude isn’t helping.

“I told you already. I went downtown and talked to the guy at the garage, but he told me he’d call back if they needed a new mechanic.” I threw in my burger into the microwave, punched two minutes and hit start.

Then she began to sob. I hated when she sobbed.

“You know we can’t keep living like this, Eddie. I can’t keep living like this. Why don’t you understand?”

I took a deep breath. “Look, M. Right now let’s just have some dinner, ok, and then we’ll talk.” I looked back at the oven to see the light was flickering and banged my fist on top of it. “Stupid thing won’t work since yesterday.”

“If we had some money we could get a new one, instead of having these pieces of junk left by your brother” Marie muttered under her breath.

I turned to her and yelled, “I’M DOING THE BEST I CAN, M! AND I DON’T NEED YOU REMINDING ME ABOUT VINCENT EVERY DAMNED TIME!”

Suddenly the microwave hummed loudly behind me. I looked back and the faint glow had turned into a blinding light, the digital display was going nuts, and I could both see and hear fizzling and crackling coming from the oven. I grabbed Marie and rushed her out of the kitchen, ducking behind the couch. Seconds later, it blew up.

I peered over the sofa to see the smoky remains of an old microwave; the counter top, wall and shelves covered in black soot from the explosion. I look back at Marie to check if she and the baby were ok. All I see is an irritated face staring back at me.

“Wonderful. Now how’re we gonna cook food?”

Part II

After all what happened that night, my mind was cluttered. All the names were playing over and over in my head, like a scratched record…

“Nobody!”

“Loser!”

I had to get my mind off things; needed to get out of that house; away from everything, everyone…

“Good for nothing!”

“Pathetic!”

I got into the old convertible and drove off. My brother and I used to do this all the time. Just cruise and talk. He was the only one who understood me, what I was going through. I merged onto the freeway and sped like there was no tomorrow.

But I could still hear them, the insults over the years. I tried to drown them out by putting the radio on full blast, stepped on the gas so the motor would be loud and the wind would blow hard.

“Delinquent!”

“Perp…”

Nothing worked. Only one option left. I swore off crack since Marie was pregnant with Esperanza, but I had no choice. Either that or drive onto incoming traffic.

I can’t.

But you need it! You have to!

No, I’m not like that anymore.

Yes, there’s no other way.

NO!!!

The radio went haywire, switching stations like crazy. My blinkers and headlights flashed bright and burnt out. The streetlights I passed by popped like overblown balloons, sparks raining down on me. What the hell was going on? I got off at the next exit and stopped the car.

I needed to calm down. Taking deep breaths was useless; I was too freaked out. First it was the microwave, now the car, but the lights on the freeway? Was it me? That’s crazy! I knew what it was: My brain’s all screwed up because… I needed my “fix.” I remember my brother had a stash somewhere in the car, before the pigs pinched us.

Trunk? No. Maybe under the back seat? Nada.

I thought about the spot where we used to deal. Maybe somebody took over for us after the run in with the cops. Checking my pockets I didn’t have any money on me. I desperately went back to searching.

Wait. The glove box…

There I saw it. It was his before they took him away. I reached for it and checked the clip; there were still a few bullets left in it. But it wasn’t what I was looking for.

Even better.

A flash of neon caught my eye. A convenience store was across the street. The names came back…

“Thief!”

“Criminal…”

Part III

The door chimed as I walked in, nodding quickly to a 'Good evening' from the guy behind the counter. I was hoping it’d be emptier by this hour. Walking through the aisles I could see a couple of old ladies, one blonde, the other redheaded, and a dude in a brown jacket near the freezers in the back. Some old guy in a blazer was giving me bad looks as I passed him; he doesn’t know what’s in store. Some Chinese chick was near the register and another close by with a white cap. Those were all of them, so I began to play out the scene in my head: walk to the counter, pull out the gun, get the money, and run. Anyone who would try to get in my way, BANG!

But I began to get anxious as I saw the security camera overhead, pointed straight at the register. My palms started to get sweaty, so I stuffed them in my jacket pockets. I could feel my right hand meet the gun’s grip. Feeling a bit more confident, I focused back on the camera. How would I do this without being caught on video?

An idea then came to me. The microwave, the car’s headlights, and the lampposts along the freeway; could I do the same to the camera? But blowing it up wouldn’t help. I just needed to turn it off somehow…

I concentrated on the lens.

Turn off. Nothing.

Turn… off. The red light was still blinking.

DAMN IT! TURN THE HELL OFF!

The red light shone one last time before slowly fading away.

I couldn’t believe it. It worked! “That takes care of the security camera,” I thought.

Looking back at the counter, the anxiety came back. Why was I so nervous? “If he makes a move,” I said to myself “I’ll blow his head off.” I tightened my hand around the gun’s grip and went over my plan. “I’ll clean everything outta the register; probably get a couple hundred in cash, too.” I repositioned my hand so the gun would be easier to pull out of my pocket and slid my finger onto the trigger.

“Hey,” I heard someone from behind startling me. “Look, I know why you’re here and I just want to say don’t do this.”

“What the hell do you know?” I growled, staring him down.

He stepped back. “Nothing, but I’m a cop.”

My eyes widened and before I pull out the gun, he added “But I am not armed.”

He started going on about his wife, that I could shoot him, but I’d be throwing my life way for a couple of twenties. He didn’t understand what I was going through, with Marie at home and all.

“…But Marie is waiting for you… at home, right?”

How does this pig know about Marie? I started to freak, thinking I wouldn’t be in this mess if Vincent were here. At least he has a month to go before…

“…And Vincent is getting out in a month.”

What the hell!

“All you have to do is just take your hand out of your jacket pocket, put the gun down and get out of here.”

He knew things: things about me, about Marie, about Vincent. How? It’s impossible.

Blood was pumping; heart racing. I didn’t know what to do.

I quickly pulled the gun out, held it against my head, looked the cop in the eye…

I ran out of the store. More names came to mind…

“Pansy!”

“Chicken!”

The 9th - Heroescast