Babysitting the Devil's Son

Another day, another fight in this hellhole they call prison. I’m Lucas, the head of the drug trade on Elarian Heights. At 32, I’m a white man with blue eyes and blonde hair, covered in tattoos. My right arm and left leg are fully inked, and I have a few more tattoos on my right arm and chest. Standing at 1.95 meters, I’m built like a tank. The only thing to do here is weight training. I've always been cold in many aspects of my life. I’m possessive about what’s mine and what I care about, so being stuck in this place is even harder. I’ve controlled Elarian Heights for fifteen years, taking charge when I was just 15. For two years, I was the underboss of the hill until I killed the former leader’s son and took over his position. That’s right, I killed that son of a b***h who was a disgusting old rapist. I did what the command should have done but never did. Back then, Elarian Heights was under TPC’s control. When they came to confront me, I told their boss, Ricky, some hard truths. He came at me, and I beat him senseless, even with his soldiers pointing their weapons at me. If there’s one thing I don’t have in this life, it’s a fear of dying. Ricky didn’t have the guts to kill me or take my hill. I was the under boss, but I commanded more respect than Charles, the actual boss, who was more interested in orgies and drunkenness. The only thing TPC managed to do was remove Elarian Heights from their faction, which didn’t bother me. I took my reasons for killing Charles to CV’s command. Michelangelo, the faction leader, reviewed everything and ended up thanking me. Charles had raped two fifteen-year-old girls who died. When Michelangelo asked me to throw the bodies into a ditch, I aimed my gun at the bastard and unloaded my entire clip on him without mercy. Since then, I’ve been the head of Elarian Heights, earning the respect and admiration of my community. I speak to everyone, respect everyone, and as long as we walk the right path, we live in peace. Now, let me tell you how I got here. I don’t know who my mother or father are. I was born in a place only God knows and was raised by a woman in Elarian Heights. This woman made me a man, taught me right from wrong, and instilled in me that I am the master of my path and destiny. Madame Margarette raised me as her own until I was nine years old. When she died, I had to fend for myself and became a drug runner. By the age of nine, I was already knee-deep in the evils of the world and the madness of the drug trade in America. I survived day by day, just trying to make it through. For years, I just survived without truly living. When I became the underboss, I started living. I earned more respect from my hill than the actual boss. Only then did I start living, not just surviving. Living in this world isn’t easy. It’s not for the weak. If you have a weak mind and lack strength, you won’t last long. I speak from experience. I may be in this prison now, but how many at my age have achieved what I have? Very few. What nine-year-old could accomplish everything I did? I killed for the first time before I was ten. My soul was already condemned then. It was me or the bastard trying to steal my stuff. I didn’t think much, just about surviving. Do I miss my parents? No. You can’t miss something you never had. I miss Madame Margarette, who was everything to me for those nine years. When I found out I was going to be a father, I wished she were there to teach me what I needed to know. Yes, I have a son, Elijah. He’s four years old now, but when I was arrested, he was only eight months old. How did this happen? It’s ironic, considering I’m one of the most arrogant, sagacious, and calculating guys in America. But love... love blinds you in a way that makes you unable to see who’s really on your side. Memories from Four Years Ago Olivia stood on the balcony of the Scottsdale penthouse I had reserved for our five-year anniversary. “Wow, what a beautiful place,” she said, her voice full of awe. I was driven by what I thought was love for that treacherous woman. “I want to f**k you in every corner of this penthouse,” I told her, kissing her as she smiled at me. That day is vivid in my mind, now with a thirst for revenge rather than sadness. “Let’s start in the bathtub. I want to surprise you,” she said, and I smiled, lifting her in my arms and carrying her upstairs. “You fill the bathtub,” she instructed, and I kissed her with more intensity. “Already, my dear. It won’t take long,” I assured her, thrilled by her smile. “I love you, love,” she said, but I noticed a lack of sparkle in her eyes. I hadn’t heard those words from her in a long time. “I love you too, dear,” I replied, entering the bathroom, trying to recall the last time she said it. “Love, is it ready yet?” she called from outside. “You can come in, love,” I said, feeling my chest tighten as I stripped off my pants and shirt. “I’ll get the champagne,” she said, and I agreed, hearing her steps through the room and out the door. Seconds later, I heard several footsteps running toward the penthouse. Realization hit me. It was the police. My gun wasn’t there, and I was going to die or be arrested. “On the floor, son of a b***h, on the floor!” a cop barked as he burst into the bathroom. I raised my hands. I wasn’t afraid of dying, but I thought only of my son. “Where the f**k is my wife?” I demanded, panic rising as I tried to figure out what was happening. “The b***h who reported you for 30 thousand dollars?” The cop laughed, handcuffing me. Anger, hatred, and contempt surged through me for the woman I had given five years of my life to. “She already got the reward for you,” he added. They wanted me alive back then, offering 30 thousand for my head. “That’s for something that helped me,” I said aloud. Present Day That day, I realized love only brings trouble. Blindly trusting someone is a fool’s game. I loved Olivia, gave her everything from luxury to loyalty. I never looked at another woman, whether I was with her or not. I hate her so much now. I can’t explain the depth of my hatred for putting me here and depriving me of four years with my son. I don’t know if Elijah is eating, drinking, or even alive. With so many enemies knowing about my heir, my greatest fear is hearing that my son is dead or, worse, that an enemy has him to use against me. Every day here is torment. The only way I keep my mind clear is through workouts and maintaining my cell with the help of the only people I trust now. They are Leo, my underboss, and Asher, my general manager. I don’t know how long I’ll be here. My lawyer says he’s working on getting me out, but however long it takes, I want to leave with a clean record. I want to go after the traitor who put me here and stole my time with my son. And I will.