Free Angel's Revenge by Teri Woods

there?”
    Qwan cleared his throat nervously. “Yes. Well, I try to maintain a respectable persona. It’s important that the congregation
     see the blessing God gives the faithful.”
    Angel nodded and looked around. An eerie pause played with the rhythm of the moment. Qwan broke the awkward silence.
    “San Francisco’s kinda far, but I know a few good churches I can recommend if you’d like.”
    Angel brushed blonde hair off her face. “You know me, Qwan. Ain’t much changed. I’m still the same ol’ Angel. Church is the
     last thing on my mind.”
    “Well, God is the changer of hearts.”
    “So I’ve heard,” she sighed, tired of the small talk. “Listen, Qwan, I think you know why I’m here.”
    “I have some idea.”
    “So why don’t we talk about it, then? Why did you do it, Qwan? We was a family,
la familia.
And family don’t turn on family for nothin’.”
    Her eyes narrowed, but Qwan averted his gaze. He stood up and walked around the desk pensively. He sat down then and looked
     at Angel above tented hands.
    “If I told you it was hard to do, Angel, I’d be lying. I don’t feel any remorse. Maybe that’s hard for you to understand but
     I pray I can make you. Do you remember the port?”
    “Of course.”
    Qwan leaned forward in his chair.
    “When I went to prison for that year, I took a long hard look at my life. I saw myself starting a vicious cycle that could
     only end in one of two places. Prison again and again or the graveyard, and I didn’t want either. One night, I prayed. I prayed
     like never before and I asked God to show me the way, to guide me, and he did. He guided me to His Son, my Lord and Savior,
     Jesus Christ.”
    Angel got the feeling he had recited this speech before, probably to wayward youth, but she let the record play out.
    “When I came home, it was like I forgot Him, forgot His Son, and I fell right back into Satan’s trap. Dutch. You may not like
     what I’m about to say, but Dutch was a devil. He was evil. I just didn’t know how evil until the night he and Chris murdered
     that girl’s father in cold blood. Cold blood, Angel. We walked right into his home and took his life. For what? Because Dutch
     wanted to send a message?”
    Qwan dropped his head, mumbling something inaudible.
    I hope it’s a prayer,
Angel thought.
    “You mean Simone’s father?”
    Qwan nodded with watery eyes. In his mind, he relived the moment.
    “After that, I tried to get out, but I couldn’t. I can’t tell you why, but Satan had me. I… I was scared that Dutch would
     kill me, so I stayed. I stayed and I watched people die at his hands. I spent the blood money. I luxuriated in it. Until one
     night, one night I had a dream.”
    Qwan’s eyes glazed over and his voice boomed like he was giving a sermon.
    “I dreamt I was standing on the brink of fire. All I could hear were screams, agonizing screams, and I smelled burnt flesh.
     I saw myself standing over the pit. Then someone called my name. I turned around and it was Dutch. He said my soul was wanted
     in hell, and then an unseen force flung me into the pit. I woke up sweating and crying and I knew then, even if he killed
     me, I had to get out. I had to,” Qwan said as he lowered his head.
    Angel sat unmoved by Qwan’s story. She had no pity and no sympathy for what Qwan had done, no matter what he said. She stared
     at the top of his head until he raised it.
    “But he didn’t kill you, did he, Qwan? He let you walk away clean,” Angel said, still not understanding why he had turned
     state and testified.
    “But I couldn’t be clean, not as long as I carried the burden I carried, and the trial was my only chance to unload it.”
    Qwan stood and walked around the desk.
    “When the DA first contacted me to testify against Dutch, I said no. I didn’t want no part of it. But the more I thought,
     the more I knew it was my only chance to purge myself. How could a man of God refuse to denounce the devil to his face?