Timothy

The boys hand was shaking as he lowered the gun
“No, I didn’t mean to, please!” he cried tears streaming down his face
“shut up and quit crying timothy!” a tall man behind him hit him sharply in the back of his head causing spots to spin around him. “You’re with us now, all your problems are over” timothy didn’t move his eyes from the pool of ruby red blood spreading from the man he had just killed, the man’s voice softened “it will get easier with time” timothy tucked the gun into his belt and turned, his face hardening into a familiar mask as he joined the ranks of his new gang their cheers ringing in his ears.

A car screeched and timothy heard his friend yell in excitement
“Get ready! Get ready!”
Timothy acknowledged the order grabbing the bat from the back of the car and swinging it at a man on the side of the road. There was a sickening crunch and timothy flinched as the cloying scent of blood filled his nostrils and he felt it splatter his cheek. The car screeched again and roared away from the crime his friend laughing at the way the man fell.

Timothy hesitated, hiding in the bushes wondering what to do. Making a decision he took a deep breath and walked up to the door of the forbidding station pausing at the threshold before stepping inside. An officer led him into one of the back rooms where he stayed for about an hour. He came out with the glint of a secret hidden deep in his eyes and a small smile of redemption twitching in the corner of his cheek.

Timothy woke up to his leader yelling, his hand instinctively grabbed the gun on his bedside table.
“Get your butts out of bed; we’ve got a raid in case you’ve forgotten!”
He leapt up already dressed following the others out of their hideout, hopping into one of the three white vans filled with plastic explosives and weapons, he checked his gun. His hand shook slightly gripping the small square in his pocket and covering it in sweat.

Alarms rang out breaking the early morning silence as men scrambled out of vans shooting at anything that moved in the front of the warehouse. Timothy leapt out last cocking his gun and raising it looking for rival gang members. He didn’t look long for within minutes people were shooting back at them from the warehouse. Then it ended, the loud call of a bullhorn breaking through the sounds of the fight and L.A. police coming out of hidey holes around the warehouse
“Drop your weapons and put your hands in the air”
Both gangs seemed stunned as the morning turned quiet again and gang members were handcuffed. Timothy stepped forward his hand reaching into his pocket for the badge that showed he was undercover. He heard someone yell.
“Gun”
There was a bang.