Rat’s Dilemma

{TW: Violence}

I woke up feeling strangely energized. My room was clean, everything put back in its original place. Guess Dad really wanted to calm me down. Too bad it didn't work.

At least my ribs weren't broken, so I hadn't failed the mission yet. Though I was starting to get frustrated with the vagueness of it all. Was my walk home yesterday not interesting enough?

I jumped out of bed and made my way downstairs, avoiding everyone. If I left now, maybe I wouldn't bring any trouble with me.

Just as I reached for the door, a voice called out.

"Hey there." A man stood outside, smiling at me through the window. My body tensed. "Jack? Hey, I already know everything. Come on out."

Fuck. They found me already? Did he really think I'd just open the door and go peacefully?

"Fuck off!" I snapped, yanking the blinds down.

The man sighed. "Ah, I'll just use the key your old man gave me."

I froze.

The key Dad gave him?

The door unlocked. I grabbed the nearest weapon—a broom from a passing maid—and swung as the man stepped inside.

"Die!"

"What the hell?!" He barely dodged my wild swings.

"Get out of my house! Rapist! Pervert!" I kept swinging, but my panic made my aim terrible.

"Stop!" The guy caught the broomstick and flashed something shiny at me—a police badge.

"A rowdy welcome! How could you possibly be a Spencer?" he said, shaking his head. "Listen, I'm the Chief of Police, Dean Anderson. Can you accompany me to the station for a chat?"

The police? Could they actually help me? I'd never talked to a clean cop before, and it felt weird being asked to come in so... politely.

"What the fuck did I do?" I asked.

"That's what we'd like to talk about," he said. "Please follow me."

I turned to the maid and muttered, "If I don't come back, call my dad."

I followed him to his car, sitting in the passenger seat.

"Seatbelt, young man," Dean said.

I clicked it in and sat back, feeling... shame. Was I really about to talk to the cops? I wasn't betraying anyone, but it still felt dirty.

And why was I meeting the Chief of Policd? What the hell was about to happen to me at the station? If Dad set me up, I swear I'd kill him.

***

The police station was bustling, a place I'd been in way too many times in my last life—for all the wrong reasons. Dean led me to the fourth floor, seating me at an open desk near the head of the room. He sat across from me, calm and unreadable.

"Did you commit a crime or something? Why are you acting like a nervous puppy?" he asked.

"Who the fuck are you calling a puppy, pig?" I snapped before I could stop myself. Damn it! That wasn't on purpose—I just couldn't help it.

I still fucking hated this place.

Dean smirked. "Your father said you had an temper. He also said you might be a bit paranoid. He's worried, so he asked me to check up on you personally."

"He's worried?" I repeated, thrown off. It wasn't a setup?

"That's right. He said you were being chased by the Vulture gang."

Ugh, that old man. It was exhausting enough dealing with a gang—I didn't need the police involved too.

But... he took me seriously?

In my last life, I'd have had to deal with this all alone.

"So... what happened? What's your relationship to the Vulture gang?" Dean asked.

"Well, to be honest..." I hesitated. Was I really about to sit here and snitch on Jared? "The thing is—"

I was cut off by a slap to the back of my head.

I turned sharply to see a detective rolling her eyes at some guy in handcuffs.

"What's a little shit like you doing here?" the guy sneered. "Well, well. I'll treat a pretty face like yours real nice on the inside."

"Move it," the detective snapped.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming. See ya later, Honey!" He slapped the back of my head again.

Something inside me snapped.

Before I even knew what I was doing, I jumped out of my seat and punched the handcuffed bastard to the ground—hard.

"Die, you piece of shit!" I screamed, fists raining down on him.

"You crazy bitch!" he yelled, unable to fight back.

"DIE, BITCH!" I kept hitting him, blinded by rage, until Dean grabbed me and yanked me off.

"Hey! You didn't come here to fight! Control yourself!" he snapped.

Shit.

I was too riled up. I lost control.

"I saw him hit the kid first, Mr. Anderson," the lady detective said, shaking her head. "I'll take care of this one." She dragged the guy away, muttering, "See what happens when you start shit unnecessarily?"

Dean turned back to me. "Would you like some coffee?"

"I hate coffee," I muttered, sitting down again. My hands were still shaking. My mind was a mess. I hated this place. Hated what yesterday did to me.

Why didn't I just run away?

"It's time for me to go home," I said, standing up.

"You want to go? What about the Vulture gang?" Dean asked.

"You actually believe that shit?" I scoffed. "My dad's just paranoid because I got in a fight with some delinquents from school."

No way was I snitching on Jared. It just didn't sit right with my soul. Besides, if the cops could take down the gang, they would've done it already. Why should I trust them?

"Are you being threatened?" Dean pressed. "I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

I turned to leave.

"Weren't you praying for guidance?" he asked. "I'm here to advise you now."

What the—?

I blinked, my mind struggling to process what was happening.

"So, I don't have to go to church to find you?" I asked, staring at Dean.

"It was just a physical manifestation so you would remain calm. Are you running away from your promise to live better?"

I stiffened. "Dean" or whoever he was—God, the system, whatever—had taken control of someone again.

"I'm a bit disappointed in your lack of effort," he continued. "Your oath to be the best version of yourself—this is where it stops?"

"Shit, enough with the games!" I snapped. "I've been trying my hardest to live normally and to not get involved with gang life, but it happened anyway! What the fuck do you expect me to do?!"

"That's your own misunderstanding," he said calmly. "Did you actually make a change to avoid these things as you should have in this life?"

I opened my mouth to argue—but then I hesitated.

That first day at school, I came out swinging. The first moment I didn't like something.

I became king of the school by beating up the "strongest" guy there.

I took down four affiliated Roth gang members without hesitation.

I let my fists do the talking every damn time.

My stomach twisted as I realized that things were no different. I was self destructing my own life again.

"Then what the fuck was I supposed to do?" I shouted. "I know better than anyone the kind of shitty life I've led! The only things I'm good at are fighting, swearing, and ordering people around though! I still tried my hardest not to become a gang member or start trouble! I was really trying my best to be a nicer person, too! If it weren't for those people attacking me, I wouldn't have had to be like this at all!"

The frustration built up, and before I knew it, I was crying hard.

I never felt so fucking lost in my life.

"I understand," he said after a moment. "I have no right to tell you how to live your life. But I've come to give you this piece of godly advice—don't reject those around you who genuinely want to help. For example, this detective here."

I wiped my face roughly, sniffing. "Stop pulling my fucking leg. He just wants a publicity boost after he couldn't take me down the first time."

"It may seem that way now, but this isn't the first time you and this man have met," he said. "How many times has he risked his own life to try and help you get out of the street life by coming to your neighborhood? How many times did he arrest you and try to reform you as a child? He's also the one who arrested your other father after you were disowned—and he helped your original mother get sober."

I froze.

What kind of nonsense was that?

I knew nothing about that.

But how could I?

I hadn't seen those two failures in ten years. I missed them, yeah, but I never went back. Mostly out of stubbornness.

I never even entertained the idea that they might have changed.

And yeah... I always thought Dean was fucking annoying because he kept arresting me.

"Why would you want to help me, though?" I mumbled, my voice weaker now. "It doesn't make any sense."

Dean's face shifted slightly.

"Well, it's my job to help the people in this city," he said.

That sounded like a pig answer. Which meant the system was gone now—after dropping that bomb on me.

I stared at him for a long moment, my heart hammering in my chest.

Can I really trust this guy?

I clenched my jaw, then exhaled sharply.

"F-fine," I sighed. "I'll tell you everything I know so far, so please help me."

Might as well get comfortable being a rat now.