Ron's Narrative Two Days Before The First Day In Class 2-7, 12 July 2009

Rokka passed in front of me. At first I didn't realize. My mind was filled with the cigarettes and Heinekenn. And the video clip they're playing on MTV attacked my ears -- ruthlessly, joyfully. My senses were somewhere far away.

"Brother, will you decrease the volume please?"

She's asking me. I really didn't want to pay attention. To anything. To anyone. I just wanna drown my mind, deep in the darkness where there are no worries and doubtfulness. Only emptiness. A joyful emptiness.

What did Kurt used to take for that? Ah, yeah, LSD. Maybe I'm gonna ask Svith to share me some. I've done a well job in the robbery last week. There's no reason for him to reject my request. I've been the most loyal fighter for him.

Always.

"Brother? Mom is trying to sleep, would you please lower down the volume?"

I suddenly returned to senses.

"Why didn't you say that before, Rokka?"

"I've tried to do that, but how if you stay stoned like that?" Rokka looked angrily at me. I never saw her fell mad at me.

"I'm not stoned. Do you think I'm a junkie?"

"Well you are fucking goddamn junkie!!!" she blasted out hysterically. "What're you doing with the gangs all these times! Look at mom, she's dying! She's dying!!! Do you think she's happy now, having a mafia husband and a thug goddamn son!?"

I threw the Heinekenn can at her forehead. Moment later, when she's crying, and cold sweat running down my face, I just realize what a fiendish thing I've done.

"Oh, God...." she moaned, her tears merged with the beer. "Why did this happen to us...?"

"One thing is wrong," I said. "He's NOT her husband."

Rokka roared. "Then it's right that YOU are THUG!"

I cannot do anything. No more. If I hurt my sister then I'll be same like the bastard. Like the man who'd done this thing on us. Like the man who made me born with his shitty sperm.

Like Trevor Wazzborg, the mafia boss that they called Scarface.

It was me who made the horrible scar on his face. Four years ago, when he almost killed my sister.

And made my mom blind.

Rokka is still crying. I get up from the couch, threw the cigar away. I didn't want to be this bad. I only want to make them happy. My remaining family, the only thing I had in this goddamn world.

Even if I must make myself a rattish thug, gaining money from street crime actions. In this Jokerman City, ain't that a familiar thing? In this city that is filled with broken home punks?

I walked away from the living room. Toward my mom's room.

I stood there, watching her breathe in the sleep. Could she hear my heart that is pounding so fast? All that ever there for her was only darkness. Darkness.

What am I doing? Do I make them proud? My suffering sister, my dying mom? After the devil left this house, I did anything to continue our living. I worked anything. I strived anything. But would it make them proud if I do it in the same way like my father do?

Svith has offered me to become his ally, and I accepted. I've become the high-class Street Wyverns in Jokerman City. All crimes and mobs I've ever done gave my family life. Gave them another day of breathing and suffering. Of pain.

But now... does it make them proud?

I'm confused. All possibilities play like a movie in my head. What will happen after I take the decision. It's horrible. And if I make a wrong move, I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die with no excuse.

Rokka's trembled voice came again. And in front of me, on her bed, my mother sleeps in a painfully silence.

I have decided.

I'll go out from the Street Wyverns.