R e n e g a d e s (High&Low) v1: Ring



 「''Got a fire in my soul. I’ve lost my faith in this broken system.''」

For as long as I can remember, I’ve always wanted to know who my father is and where he might be. Does he even know I exist? Does he care? I’ve spent years imagining what he might look like and how he might act. I’ve wondered if we share the same interests or if we dislike the same things. Does he fear spiders like I do? Does he love tacos like I do? What about his job? His dreams? Does he have his own family somewhere? Would he accept me if he found out I exist? Could he love me after so many years? The questions are endless, swirling around my brain like a fly that can’t take a hint.

Growing up, I always felt so jealous of those that had unbroken families and loving fathers. Even if he hates me or doesn’t want me, I still deserve to know who he is, don’t I? To know where I come from. To find out if he’s just how I envisioned him or if he’s the complete opposite. I just… want to know. It feels like a part of me is missing and I don’t know if finding out the truth will fill that hole or make it bigger. At this point, I feel more like some alien creature that doesn’t even have a father.

Naturally, I’ve asked my mother many times over the years, but her answer is always the same: ‘it was just a one night stand,’ ‘I didn’t know him,’ ‘he was a psychopath, you’re better off without him.’ If it truly was just a one night stand, how can she be so sure that he’s a psychopath? When I asked her this, she told me a story about how he threatened to slit his own wrist if she left him. I know mentally unstable people exist and do irrational things, but what are the chances that he would make such a threat after one night together? Unless they had spent more than just one night together and knew each other.

It honestly feels like a lie to me and I’ve always believed that she was hiding the truth from me, that she knew more than she was willing to tell, but what could I do? I can’t prove she’s lying to me and I can’t make her tell the truth, either. What an absolutely frustrating situation. At this point, all I can do is keep dreaming and hope that, one day, I’ll finally know who my father is.

Maybe one day I’ll find where I belong.

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I stared up at the ceiling with a scowl, feeling the temperature slowly begin to rise. It had surprisingly comfortable last night because of the rain, but now that it had stopped, there was nothing to suppress the rising heat. I got pretty excited when it started to rain again this morning, as I usually did, but when I rushed outside I was disappointed to find bright sunshine illuminating the rain. How is that even possible? And now it’s all hot and humid again… I should’ve just stayed in bed instead of rushing out to greet the rain.

I heard the front door open and I held back a sigh. I love my mom really, but she’s a perfectionist and a control freak. Nothing I do is good enough for her. She doesn’t care about all the shit I do around the house, she focuses only on what I didn’t do or what I did wrong. She’ll often ask me to do something only for her to take over or re-do it because it wasn’t done the way she wanted it. It makes me wonder what’s the point of even trying.

I have no motivation to do anything anymore. Why should I do as she asks only for her to push me out of the way and do it herself? Why bother trying when I know nothing I do will ever be good enough for her? She complains when I don’t do shit and she complains when I do do it, it’s a lose-lose situation for me and I’m just tired of it.

“Jen!”

And it begins. I pretended not to hear her, quickly putting on my headphones and rolling over so my back was to the door. If I’m lucky, she’ll walk in and see the headphones, try to speak to me anyway and then leave, mad that I’m ignoring her. I just managed to hit play on a spooky YouTube video when I heard the door open. I could feel her presence behind me and I could just make out the muffled sound of her voice, but I couldn’t hear what she was saying.

Several minutes passed but I didn’t dare move until she slapped my arm. Well, I can’t ignore that one. Sighing, I tugged the headphones off and sat up, glancing up at her. She didn’t look happy but, then again, she never did unless she was talking to the damn dog. What does it say about me when she treats an animal better than her own daughter?

“I love talking to myself,” she told me sarcastically, hand on her hip. “I told you to take the trash out.”

“I did.”

“Then why is there a bag sitting in the kitchen?”

“Because that bag was only half full. You can still fit -“

“I don’t care. I told you to take out the trash, that means all of the trash.”

I nodded, not really caring what she’s saying to me as I looked back down at my phone.

“A response would be nice.”

“Sure, whatever,” I replied, holding back a sigh as I adjusted my headphones.

“I’m so damn tired of those damn things. You can’t hear a thing with them on!”

I hear more than you think, I just ignore it because I’m tired of fighting with you.

“Someone could break into the house and you’d never even know it.”

I scoffed, sending her a look. “And how many times have I stood in your doorway and you’re too absorbed in your phone to even notice? You’re not even wearing headphones yet you can’t hear me coming in.”

Her eyes narrowed at me. “Why do you always have to turn it around on me, huh?”

“I’m not turning it around on you. I was just saying that -“

“I’m tired of it, Jen! Every single time I say something, you flip it around!”

I knew I should have just bit my tongue and ignored it, but I’ve never really been the type to think before I leap. “What do you expect from me? You attack me for shit that you also do, but you can’t accept when I call you out on it. It’s perfectly fine when you do something, but when I do it it’s a fucking crime against humanity. Sorry, I forgot that you’re perfect and do no wrong.”

“Oh my god, you can be such a cunt.” She turned on her heel and left the room, muttering things I’m probably better off not knowing.

My heart dropped and disbelief filled me. I know I shouldn’t let it bother me, but it really does. Over the years, she’s called me a lot of things and I’m not innocent, either – I’ve called her a bitch many times during a fight – but hearing my own mom call me a cunt… that hurts a lot more than her calling me a bitch. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, trying to calm myself down. It’s just a word, it only has power if you give it power…

I knew that was true and yet… it still hurt. A lot.

I slid off the bed so I could approach the window, pushing the glass up to feel the temperature outside. Still hot and humid, but slightly less so than earlier. I hesitated for a few minutes before finally deciding to go for a walk in order to clear my head. I ignored my mom and she ignored me. I’m thankful for that but it also annoys me that she’s mad at me when she’s the one that started it and the one that called me a cunt. It’s not like I said anything untrue, either.

I guess the truth does hurt.

I paused when I stepped out onto the porch, frowning at the concrete beneath me. Is that why her comment is hurting me so badly? Am I really a cunt? I honestly don’t even know anymore. I know it takes two to argue and we are both at fault, but… am I the cause of all this? Is it my fault?

I groaned, running a hand through my short hair. Why do I always feel so goddamn guilty after we argue? Why do I feel as if everything is my fault? God, this is so fucking annoying.

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Thunder boomed overhead, shaking the windows of the high school where I worked. The night was peaceful aside from the annoying ass cicadas chirping in the background. I’m not sure why a high school feels the need to have an overnight security guard, but I’m thankful for it. I get to work all night long just occasionally walking the grounds to make sure no one is breaking in. I arrive after everyone has left and leave before anyone arrives.

To be honest, I’m lucky that they were even willing to hire me since I don’t have a diploma and no work experience, but here I am, guarding an empty building that may or may not be haunted. I don’t get a gun, of course, but I do have a brand new baton that could really break some faces if I figure out how to use it properly.

For someone as anti-social as me, this is the perfect job. I’ve always felt so much calmer during the night, as well. The world is just so peaceful and quiet and… human free. I smiled as I stepped outside for my hourly walk around the building. It’s not very large, so it usually takes less than ten minutes to complete a full loop around.

I only made it about halfway when my phone started to buzz in my pocket. Since I have no friends, there’s only two people I get calls from – my mother and my boss. The caller ID said it was latter and I started to feel a bit nervous, wondering why he might be calling me. My pessimistic brain said he was calling to tell me I was fired even though I had done nothing to earn that – at least not that I’m aware of.

I cleared my throat as I pressed the answer button, placing the phone to my ear. “Good evening, Mr. Gilbert.”

The man grunted, sounding as if he had just woken up which makes sense since it was 2:30 in the morning. “You’re clocking out early. Go home.“

“Can I ask why?” I frowned, finishing my lap and heading back inside the building. I really don’t want to go home early because it’s so peaceful here. Plus, they have air conditioning, something that I seriously lack back at home.

“We’re under a hurricane warning,” he sighed. “I’m pulling everyone out of the field for safety.“

“Yes, sir.”

He didn’t say goodbye, he just hung up the phone.

Thunder clapped again, so loud and so violent that it felt as if the whole building shook. I briefly considered staying at the school and just saying that the storm arrived before I could leave, but I decided against it. After clocking out, I headed back outside, making sure to lock the door behind me. The wind was starting to kick up, the night sky lit up by a brief flash of lightning that forked off like branches of a tree.

I don’t live that far from the school, just about ten blocks give or take, but I doubt I’ll make it back before the rain starts. Not that I really mind being caught in the rain, but I do have to wash all of my clothes by hand since we don’t have a washer or dryer which is really annoying.

As I headed down the sidewalk, I reached up to my necklace without much thought.

The necklace itself was just one of those cheap beaded chains, but the ring hanging from it is different. I received it a year go for my 27th birthday with a note saying it was from my father. There was no return address and no other information listed. I don’t even know if it’s really from my dad or why it was sent to me out of the blue, but… I feel happy knowing that he might really exist. He’s out there somewhere and he might just know that I exist.

But then… why doesn’t he come see me or get in contact with me? I clutched the ring tightly in my hand. My whole life, I wondered if I even had a father and now I have an answer to that. Unfortunately, that answer came with a dozen more questions that I just couldn’t answer.

Another clap of thunder and the sky opened up, sheets of rain covering the earth. My clothes were soaked in seconds but I couldn’t help but smile because of how much I love the rain. Still, I picked up my pace and hurried home.