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The place he refers to as home is a trailer park.
Without waiting for me to fully stop, he immediately opens the car door upon seeing a small group of people. Startled, I abruptly hit the brakes, unbuckle my seatbelt, and jump out of the car.
I call out, “Wait,” and Brayden comes to a stop, spinning around.
“Thanks for the ride, but I got it from here; please go,” his brows drawdown, and the look of pure worry settles on his face. He really doesn’t want me here or to see where he lives. He briefly glances behind him before returning his attention to me.
“Please,” his pained eyes instantly have me retreating and getting back into the car. Once my car door shuts, he swiftly turns and sprints toward the crowd and the police car. I grip the steering wheel in a vice grip and grind my teeth together. The last thing I want to do is leave him here, but the way he asked me to go, how can I not? On the other hand, he is my student. I need to make sure he’s not in harm’s way, right?
Without thinking, I grip the door handle and pull it open. I see him in the distance, bending down to someone on the floor, with the back of his head in view. It must be his brother, but what the hell happened? Something stops me from leaving. I have this sense of need to stay here and make sure he’s OK. Make sure he’s safe. I head toward the group of people in the distance before overthinking it. Praying he doesn’t notice me before I reach him. I’ve seen his temper and the last thing I need is him showing the cops. My eyes wander across the area until they fixate on familiar black boots and a slipknot sweater.
“Daxton.” I raise my voice slightly so he can hear me. He quickly shifts his attention from Brayden and the others to focus on me. Assessing my approach, he widens his eyes and lurches forward, only to glance over his shoulder quickly at the trailer door he was leaning on. He approaches me with quick steps as I get nearer.
“Mr. Stiles?” His face contorts in confusion and panic as his eyes dart between Brayden and his trailer, scanning the surroundings.
“What are you doing here, Sir,” he rushes out.
I gesture with my head toward Brayden. “While we were both at the gym on campus, he received a phone call and since there were no Ubers around, I offered to bring him here.” I maintain my gaze on Daxton, attempting to detect any reasons why I might not be welcome in this place.
“Sir, respectfully, I think it would be best if you leave. People won’t appreciate—” he hesitates, clearly searching for appropriate words that won’t offend me, all the while subtly assessing me.
“You can say it, Daxton.” He runs his hand along the back of his neck and glances over his shoulder, presumably at his trailer door. With a deep inhale, he turns to me, appearing completely worn out. “Please, Mr. Stiles.” His eyes plead with anxiety. I stare at him for a moment, tight-lipped, and after both he and Brayden appear anxious about me being here, I decide it is likely best I leave. However, I will be talking to them both on Monday about this. Right as I’m about to leave, a deep and snappy voice catches my attention.
“Who the fuck is that?” Daxton’s shoulder is visibly tense as a slight cringe appears on his face, his eyes open wide and flit between mine.
“Go,” he hisses, but the bulky man wearing a stained tank top and oversized jeans is charging toward me with a threatening appearance. As if he intends to pummel me into next Sunday. He stops next to Daxton, and even though he is a good yard from me, I can smell the booze that wafts off him. His stained yellow teeth are exposed as he comes closer, sneering. Well, the ones he has left.
“Who the fuck are you?” He scans me from head to toe, noticing my tank top and basketball shorts that I’m still in after the gym. My eyes move over to where Brayden was standing and he’s now staring at me. I notice he’s stepped aside and I can see his brother crouched down on the floor with his knees up and cuffed hands leaning over his knees. He glances at me with his eyes drawn down and his shoulders droopy as if he’s carrying the weight of the world on them. I notice one cop standing next to them, a clear bag in his hand, with something inside it, but I can’t see what from here. Three other officers walk out of thetrailer. Daxton and the brute stand still, resembling statues, as they observe the cops departing while I steal a sideways glance at them. Tension fills the air as we all watch to see what happens. An officer bends down and lifts Brayden’s brothers handcuffed hands, pulling him upright. At that moment, Daxton and the brute stand motionless, as if anticipating what is bound to happen. I take that opportunity to side-eye them once more, discreetly analyzing their tense posture and Daxton’s rapid breathing, revealing his unease. Unless he is friends with his brother, he must be friends with Brayden. The brute’s hands are clenched, his unwavering stare fixed on the unfolding scene, apparently unsettled by Brayden’s brother’s arrest. It appears they’re a close-knit community in this area. The cuffs are removed from Brayden’s brother’s wrists as the cop distances himself. Brayden’s brother places his hand in his pocket. He gives me a lingering gaze, then his eyes dart to the brute, and I’m convinced I saw fear briefly appear on his face. Brayden tightly embraces him with his arms before they enter a trailer. At the door, a petite woman with a cigarette in one hand and a beer in the other gazes down at the two boys. As the door begins to close, she quickly glances at the brute beside me, and once again, fear appears on her face before she softly shuts the door. The brute watches as the cops slowly drive past, their eyes lingering on us standing there. Once they’re out of sight, the brute turns to me.
“Who the fuck are you?” he asks, his beer-laden breath hitting me hard. Daxton appears completely terrified as he nervously glances back and forth between me and the man.
“He’s only my teacher, Dad. Let’s go back inside." The brute’s swift swing catches me off guard, causing me to step back instinctively. He then directs his anger at Daxton, seething, “I wasn’t talking to you. Shut the fuck up.”
With hesitation, I step forward, extending my hand toward the brute’s arm, not desiring to make contact, but Daxton’sfrightened response fills me with unease. A feeling I can’t ignore. He spins at such a rapid pace that I can’t react before he grabs my neck and begins squeezing.
“Listen up,” he forcefully says, and the feeling of spit hitting my face makes me nauseous. “I don’t give a fuck why your pompous self is here, but what I know is you have outstayed your welcome and you need to leave now.” His eyes widen and his face gets closer. With a menacing tone, he cautions me, “People like you are not welcome here. Fuck off.” As he releases his grip, leaving me struggling for air, I swiftly take hold of his dropped arm. I twist it around his back and forcefully strike the back of his knees, causing him to collapse onto the floor.
“Mr. Sti—”
“Give me a moment, Daxton.” I take deep gulps of air, trying to steady myself while the sack of shit tries to get out of the tight grip I have on his back.
“Why don’t you listen up?” I echo his words. “Lay a hand on me again and I’ll ensure your arms are broken beyond repair, leaving you unable to use them ever again.” I apply pressure where I know it will hurt.
“Ahhh!” he cries out, struggling to roll as I keep him restrained. I let go and stand up slowly, keeping my gaze fixed on him to ensure he doesn’t make a sudden move toward me.
Daxton utters the word, “Shit!” Before following up, “Mr. Stiles, I’m so—”
The brute turns his head sharply to give Daxton a menacing glare. “If you say a single word to him, boy, you’ll deeply regret it.” Without even thinking, I take a step closer and swing, my fist connecting hard with the brute’s cheek as he drops to the floor. He sits up on his ass, holding his cheek and glaring up at me.
“I don’t appreciate anyone speaking that way to my students. I suggest you fix how you treat your son, Mr. Rivers.” I smile broadly at him and turn my gaze to Daxton. “You good?” I raisemy eyebrow in question, and Daxton quickly nods, averting his gaze from me and focusing on his dad, who struggles to stand up.
Once he stands, he sneers at me before grabbing Daxton by the scruff of his collar and dragging him back to their trailer. Once they get to their door, the brute walks in and Daxton glances over his shoulder at me, his eyes cast down as he mimes.
“Sorry.”
I turn and notice Brayden staring at me from inside his trailer. Dropping his head, he shakes it from side to side before disappearing from my sight. Well, shit. The sunny Sunday afternoon turned out to be entirely unexpected.
What the fuck is going on in this place?
