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Sex on a motorcycle.

"

I'm ashamed at how hard it was for me to truly grasp it. My stupid fucking cushy life. "Why didn't you just get a proper job?"

"I had a record."

"A police record."

"Yeah."

"So what happened that night?"

"We were being tracked."

"By police?"

"No, a rival gang. The time of night we were driving, someone just doesn't follow you for that many miles and take every same turn. They kept their distance, but didn't even try to make it subtle. I barely tried to shake them off, I just got angry instead. The fucking prick never turned down the headlights, you know. Blinding me in the rearview mirror. It really pissed me off. So I pulled over."

"And they did too?"

"Yup."

"What, and you went over to them?"

"Yeah. Me and Ty got out and headed over to deal with it."

"So you just fucking walked over with a gun?"

"No, I never had a gun on me. They did. They waited 'til we got close, then the pair of them got out and the driver instantly shot at Ty. He missed, God knows why. Bad aim, maybe Tyler moved. He's always had stupid fucking reflexes."

"And you lost your shit."

"Yeah. I got the gun off him and shot him four times in the face." He stared out the windscreen with his arms crossed as he talked.

"And then what?"

"The other guy shat himself, Tyler and I ran back to the car. He drove while I made a call about the whole situation."

"And got the body cleaned up."

"Yeah. We never finished that run, I dumped the package off on someone else later that night. I was done with it all. I was at university, I was trying to make a life for myself, I couldn't be fucking up like that. I didn't want to be in those situations any more. Tyler nearly died, and that was too much for me."

I sighed. "Wow. So was that the only time?"

"What?"

"That you killed someone."

"As far as I'm aware. I beat someone up pretty bad a few years before that, heard down the grapevine that his injuries killed him. Never found out if it was true or not. It was a good story, though. The branch of the gang I was in, they were quite happy if I was a known killer. More than half of that world works through reputation."

I digested the new information while I stared across the carpark at the path, hoping Violet would come back down it.

"David," he started. "Everything I have ever fucked up has been because I got angry."

"Yeah, I know."

"You never hit her again."

"What?"

"Violet. Never hit her again."

"Dad, it-"

"I don't care what you have to say. I don't care if she hits you, I don't care how many fucking times she might punch you in the mouth. You never hit her. You control it. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"You never hit anyone in this family. Not even Tyler."

"You know I'm sorry about that."

He smirked. "You learnt your lesson."

There was an awkward pause. I still felt bad about the 'kitchen incident'. I felt terrible about every time I'd shoved Wesley around. The short spat with Dad that ended with me thudding down the stairs still bothered me, and I'd never feel okay about the burst of anger I'd had towards my own girlfriend.

"Dad, I know you don't think that highly of her, but I really love Violet."

"I know you do. And she loves you, too." He nodded towards the path, where she was already walking down.

"I... I thought she'd take longer."

He grunted. "She has a few weeks for phonecalls before they go to ground."

She was hurrying towards the car, posture small and face troubled. I instinctively reached for the door and got out. She looked close to tears, rushing to cover the gap.

I gripped her shoulder. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes, it's just... it's hard. They get it, they understand. It's just... I don't... can we just go?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I just want to go." Her eyes watered. "Please, it's just, it's so fucking hard."

I held her for a few seconds in an attempt to calm her down.

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