Tales of the Underground: Blinded - 1. A New Set of Rules

Ya know, I always figured that my first time in handcuffs would be bad ass. I would go out in a blaze of glory, cops having to chase me down, maybe even taze me! But no! A god damn police raid! I knew joining a gang was stupid! I was better off on my own! Yet over these past 2 and a half years they’ve become my brothers…my family. We looked out for one another, and when it came to robbing a place blind, heh, well I guess there was no one better than me.

Maybe I should back it up a bit, my names Riley Walker, and I grew up here in the south side of Chicago, in some rundown apartment, with a single mom…yeah you know how the rest of the story goes, mom chose dick and drugs over her only son, not that it mattered to me. Sure it was hard at first…some nights it felt downright impossible, but life will always find a way. Motivated by hunger and the will to survive I started stealing from a local grocery store, at first it was just milk and bread, but before I knew it I was getting away with full meals. Stores tried their best to beef up security but they could never keep up with me. I went from walking through the front door to sneaking in through the air ducks…from walking on the streets to running rooftops. I know it sounds impossible…hell maybe it should be, but when you back an animal into a corner and give him nothing to lose, well the impossible becomes possible.

Before I knew it I started to build up some serious street credit. I wasn’t just some white trash baby trying to survive in the ghetto. I was a thief, a pickpocket, a bandit…no…I was bigger than that…I was a fucking fantasy. People didn’t believe the stories, a 10 year old kid hiding in the darkness, robbing stores and buildings blind, and yet there I was, in spite of all the doubt, in spite of all the odds stacked against me…I survived. As the years passed I started to get some serious looks from the local gangs in need of someone with my abilities. First the Kings, then the Royals and finally the Saints, but I wasn’t all that interested. I mean the shit that happens on the streets…innocent people getting gunned down for no reason…it wasn’t for me…I didn’t belong in that life…then again my life has been all about being forced into a place I don’t belong.

You see one night my whole world got turned upside down. One of my mom’s crackpot boyfriends came back a little too far gone. I tried my hardest to stop it…I really did, but just like every man that came before him…I was no match. Before I knew it he pulled a knife and slashed me across the face. The last thing my left eye saw was him take the same knife and plunge it into my mom. I’d love to say that it destroyed me, that it left me cold and alone…but honestly…it set me free. That night I laid in a pool of my own blood, and played dead…the eye he destroyed, the slash he thought killed me…well it was what saved me.

Later that night, when I was sure he was gone, I stumbled back to the club the Saints used as a hide out and collapsed in front of them, barely getting my story out. To my surprise they took care of me, they could’ve left me for dead…God knows my mom would’ve, but they didn’t. They gave me a place to stay, and helped take care of my eye the best they could, but in the end it was all for not. At first they wanted to pull it, but I refused. Even if it leads to infection, even if I can’t see out of it…it’s a reminder of what happened that night, of what can happen any night. And just like that I was a Saint.

Despite my history they started me out as a dealer and delivery man, but even at the young age of 12 being a street boy wasn’t good enough for me. I blew past all the other teens I worked with, and left them in my dust. It was as though I was determined to become that fantasy I had created, as if the scared kid that stole to survive was gone, and all that was left…well it was one eyed and mad as hell. Finally when they knew they could trust me, when they knew I wouldn’t snitch, they let me really become a Saint. When you hear gang initiation you think of kids gunning down innocent people or old women getting beat up, but that’s not how we did it in the Saints. I was held down beaten and marked until I was halfway to death, it took me nearly a month to fully recover, but when I did I was no longer Riley… I was Cyclops…well Cy for short. The next few years saw me doing it all, suddenly that one eyed kid had a name…an identity. I learned the ins and outs of gang life and I loved every goddamn second of it. That is until one late night when a rival gang dimed on us.

Police seemed to come from everywhere, they flooded the doorways, the windows, hell even the fuckin cealin! They lined us up one by one, and cuffed us. Yet as they snapped the cuffs on me I saw a fire ignite in the arresting officer’s eyes “Look at this captain! We’ve struck gold!” The officer was practically laughing in my face as he yelled towards his captain “Riley Walker, or do you really go by Cy now? Oh how we’ve been waiting for this!”

Turns out I wasn’t as discrete as I thought I was…that I wasn’t as much of a phantom as I had hoped. The same tract record that gave me all that gang glory sold me right up street to Juvy. That is until my public defender struck a deal, I would be released into the foster system if and only if I agreed to let them use me as antigang propaganda. At first I fought it with everything in my being, working with the cops? That shit will get you killed! But as the days in juvy passed I realized something…I wasn’t made for a cage…I was made to climb.

So backed into a corner once again I gritted my teeth and accepted my fate. The cops didn’t spare any of the theatrics, they dressed me up all nice and shit, and slammed my face on posters all around. “What would you do if this was your son?” The large bold letters above my head read. Of course the half of my face with my good eye looked all clean cut and nice, while the scarred side of my face with a bum eye…well they decided to let it stay grimy to really show the “dangers” of being in a gang. It should’ve been gold, I mean a known gang member being rescued by the police?! God doesn’t that just sound amazing?! But the CPD made one fatal mistake, they forgot who their audience was. The people of the southside took one look at the poster and tore it down. No one cared about a kid like me. No one cared for something so…so…broken. No one cares about damaged goods.

After a week or 2 the campaign stalled and I was to be taken out of the group home they had kept me in and placed into the foster system. Yet fate’s ugly hand bumped me in a different direction. “You’re going to be fostered, and hopefully adopted by a family in North Shore. They’ve been looking for someone like you.” Some court appointed Social Worker snarled

“Let me guess a young white male, or a charity case to boost their social status?” I spit back with a sarcastic smile.

He rolled his eyes at my tone, and bit down on his lip “They can’t have kids of their own, and adopted a boy when he was a baby…that was about 16 years ago, but recently they’ve decided they’re not done expanding their litter…I’d say it’s in your best to interest to keep your big mouth shut, and go along with it all.”

“Whatever” I rolled my eyes “If they’ll give me a bed and food for a few days then I guess that works for me.” I let out a sigh and looked at the approaching sky rises “But me…I was meant for the streets…it’s only a matter of time before I’m back out there.”

“Riley, you’re not a criminal. You’re a victim of unfortunate events…a kid forced to join a vicious gang…” He lectured, adding a little more gas to the rickety old car.

“Save it for when you write my autobiography.” I interrupted “and for the last time it’s Cy.”

“If I wrote it it’d be a biography, for it to be an autobiography you’d have to write it.” He groaned, in a disapproving tone.

I rolled my eyes and let my head slam against the window “Yeah whatever.”

Before I knew it we left the skyscrapers in our wake and approached a much different type of neighborhood...one I thought only existed in fairytales. It was like the houses were pregnant with other houses! I mean they were just so fuckin big. What the hell do you have to even do to afford one of these? God the amount of drugs that would have to get moved…fuck I could overdose, come back to life, overdose and come back to life all over again! Not that I ever tried drugs, well unless you count weed, but I mean that’s a plant so that’s not really a drug right?

Finally we pulled into what I first thought was a hotel, but as we got closer and closer I could see it was a house…well I guess a mansion. I did my best to gather my thoughts, before grabbing my small backpack from next to me and jumping out of the car.

The social worker grabbed onto my shoulders tightly as we approached the front door “Don’t fuck this up for yourself.”

I looked to him but no words came out. I stood there…breathless…taken back from the massive property I was standing on. Finally he reached out and banged on the huge door. As it slowly crept open a man and a woman who looked like they’d jumped out of Pleasantville appeared. “Riley!” The woman exclaimed as though she had known me my whole life “We’ve been expecting you dear.”

“It’s Cy” I mumbled, trying to regain control of my mind.

“What’s that?” she politely asked in a cheery tone which was like a drill to my ears.

“My name is Cy.” I reiterated much louder.

“Oh boys!” The Social Worker laughed “You know how they can be! They give themselves nicknames and…”

“It’s not a nickname” I interrupted flashing the damaged eye “When you get slashed across the face with a knife…well shit changes.”

The woman’s face turned a light shade of white, but after a quick breath she seemed to regain her composure “Oh my, what a life you’ve lived. Well you’re safe now, you’re with us.” She greeted

I shot her a skeptical look but her husband quickly stepped in “We’re the James family. Welcome to our home, we’re happy to have you!” He quickly uttered, just as cheery as his wife “We hope you’re just as excited as us.”

“Something like that.” I nodded as they stepped aside to let me in.

The house was like a dream. White tiles covered the floor of the foyer, and a chandelier made out of what looked like diamonds hung high above us. The rest of the house was equally as beautiful, large immaculate carpets decorated some of the flooring, while other tiles continued into rooms that broke off into different directions. Finally we stopped in the kitchen, and all sat down at the large table. The Social Worker handed over foster paperwork, and Mrs. James began to fill it out.

“Well Cy.” Mr. James began “We hope you’ll understand that we have some rules around here. First off no cursing, cigarettes, fighting, stealing, pornography or alcohol. You’ll have a curfew of 10pm, and will be enrolled in a private school along with our son Aaron.” I looked at him speechless, and he reached out his hand “We’ll also need to check all your bags.”

I discreetly rolled my eyes and slide my backpack across to him “That’s all I got.”

“What?” he let out, off put by my attitude.

“That’s everything I own.” I repeated.

I saw him scan my face, waiting for some sort of punchline. “Oh okay.” He nodded, finally looking down at the bag in front of him “While I do this, why don’t you go fill this with urine.”

I had to fight off laughter as he slide a drug test my way “There’s no way in hell I pass this, why even give it to me?”

“What?” he gasped, almost mirroring what he had done a few seconds ago.

“I’m a saint…I was a saint…we smoked weed daily…why waste our time?” I sighed, leaning back.

“Oh okay…” he racked his brain for a response “We’ve fostered kids before, and have never had one be so honest…it’s actually inspiring.”

I pushed back and balanced on the back legs of the chair “So then I’m numberrrrrrr?”

“Number?” Mr. James repeated with a confused face.

“What number foster kid am I?” I spit already getting frustrated by their innocence “8 or 9?”

“No, no, I think you’re misinterpreting this whole situation.” He nervously laughed “We’re looking to adopt.”

I nodded my head “So I’ve heard.” I replied making a face “But if I’m like the 6^th foster kid of the month, there aint much stoppin you from sending my ass right back onto the streets.”

“Look Ril…Cy, I don’t know how many foster homes you’ve been in before, but that’s not how we operate here.” He tried to comfort “We’ve only ever fostered about 3 or 4 kids before you, and none when we had intentions to adopt.” He uncomfortably shifted “If you haven’t noticed, me and the Mrs. aren’t exactly young, so it would bring us great pleasure to be able to raise one more child while we still have the energy…even if that child is on the older side.”

I felt the pressure shift to me, as all 3 adults focused on my words “And if I don’t want to be adopted?”

“Well that’s why we’re fostering you first…I mean we would have to anyway, but still, we want you to be comfortable with us before we go through with anything.” He announced, gaining his wife’s support.

I leaned forward, letting the chair go back to all fours “What if I’m the worst foster kid ever? What if I don’t follow any of your rules, and raise hell the whole time you have me? Have you ever even hosted a gang member before?”

“Ex-gang member.” The social worker angrily grunted worried I was purposely bombing the introduction.

“Well no we haven’t, but we’ve worked with at risk youth!” He looked to me and smiled “That aside that’s why they call us foster parents” he emphasized “It’s our job to be parents, and your job to be a teenager. We might not know your full story, but we’re going to do our best to be there for you through hell or highwater.”

“And why’s that?” I skeptically pushed, as Mrs. James handed the social worker the completed forms.

“Because you deserve more than you’ve gotten so far.” Mrs. James answered sitting up straight.

“I told you you were headed to a good family.” The social worker teased as he headed toward the door “I’ll be back to check in on things in a few weeks, until then behave yourself.”

I rolled my eyes, and inhaled a fresh breath as she finally left the house. “So Cy, why don’t you let me show you to your room.” Mrs. James offered, grabbing onto my bag. “That is, if you’re done checking it.”

“Nothing but clothes in there.” He nodded, giving his wife the okay.

I groaned, and offered to take it from her, but she refused. “We’re going to have to get you more clothes, perhaps you’ll fit into some of Aaron’s old clothing.”

“Whatever.” I mumbled following her up the stairs, and down a large hallway.

“Speaking of Aaron, you’ll be staying in his room. Once you get to know each other we’ll discuss giving you your own bedroom.” She instructed. I silently nodded, and kept walking until we reached a large bedroom. It was clear the person living in it had recently moved all his shit from one side to the other in a rush to make space. “He should be home soon, but you don’t need to wait for him to get settled in.” I nodded once more “You need help or anything?”

I opened the dresser on my side of the room and quickly threw my bag in it not bothering to answer the question. I took a breath and looked around “Ugh…Thank you.” I forced out, not knowing what to say. A small smile crept across her face, and she exited the room. I rolled my eyes and jumped into the bed, before I knew it passed out. It’s been a long time since I’ve slept in a real bed…too long.

“Hey Cy…” Mr. James began as he entered the room. The sudden interruption sent my flying to my feet on full alert. He shot me a concerned look but quickly composed himself “Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you! I just want to make sure you understand all the rules?” I groggily nodded at his questions “So no drugs, alcohol, cursing, breaking curfew, stealing or fighting.” I gave him a blank expression and let his words soak the air before nodding once more “Alright well Aaron just got home if you’d like to come meet him.” He offered trying to read my silence. I cautiously followed him as he led me downstairs and to a boy who looked only a few months older than me, but stood a few inches taller. I mean I must be about 5’6 but this kid was easily around 5’9. “Aaron this is your new foster brother Riley Walker, but he prefers to go by the name Cy.”

He reached out to shake my hand, but I simply tilted my head “What’s up?”

“I’m good” he answered, returning his hand to his side “and you?”

“Can’t complain.” I responded with a sigh.

“Cool, cool.” I could tell by the look on his face he was a bit taken back by how I looked “So you’re staying in my room for a bit?”

“Yup.” I reached up and lightly brushed away a clump of my shaggy hair, fully exposing my left eye and scarred face. His eyes quickly darted back and forth not knowing where to look.

“He’s actually seemed to get quite comfortable, he’s already broke in his new bed and all.” Mr. James quickly uttered, trying to save him son from being put on the spot.

“Dinner!” Mrs. James yelped, as a burnt smell began to fill the air, she quickly ran down the hall, and disappeared around the corner.

“I better go make sure she doesn’t burn down the house.” Mr. James excused himself chasing after her.

Aaron looked over at me and we both couldn’t help but laugh at the chain of events. “You seem nice.”

“Nice?” I echoed, this kid doesn’t even know me and he’s calling me nice?

“Like a genuine person.” He elaborated “I’m sure we’ll get along.”

I nodded to his words “So what are your rules? Don’t touch each other’s shit I assume. Is there a rule about food or somethin?”

“Rules?” he repeated, not understanding.

I shrugged my shoulders “Yeah, I’m stayin in your place, so I assume you’ve got your own order to things. Everyone I’ve ever lived with has some sort of system.”

“Just respect my personal space I guess…other than that you can make yourself as comfortable as you’d like.” I could tell by his reply that he didn’t quite understand where I was coming from.

“It’s like I’m in the fuckin twilight zone.” I snickered

“Trust me, you’re in a good place. We don’t exactly fight or create trouble.” He clarified “You’re among the most elite of Illinois, I guess you’ll have to learn a whole new set of rules.”

“I guess so.” I shrugged heading towards the door.

“Where are you going?” he pushed, worried he had offended me.

“Air.” I answered, not bother to turn around

“Just stay on the property for now.” He suggested with a shrug “You don’t want to get lost.”

I nodded as I exited the house, and took in a breath of fresh air. I spent a few minutes walking around the massive property before eyeing a fake balcony attached to the center of the house. Before I could even think about it, I started to scale the huge house. It wasn’t exactly the easiest climb ever, but for someone as experienced as me…well let’s just say it wasn’t all that hard either. As I finally reached the balcony I lunged myself onto it and rested. For decoration this thing can sure hold its own I laughed to myself. I let my nerves from the day slowly leave me, and peered over at Lake Michigan in the distance…perhaps I could get used to living in suburbia for more than just a few days.