Leader Of The Mafia {h.s}

014

"Tell me and I'll leave you alone." I said, resting my hands in front of her on the kitchen island countertop.

"You'll never leave me alone. You'll always be a pest and a headache." She muttered.

"Okay, how about this? I'm demanding you tell me." I stated with a clenched jaw, staring into her eyes.

She looked up at me, sorrow in her caramel colored eyes, before she took a long sigh and started to explain everything I questioned her about.

"Running calms me down because-" she paused to take a deep and long breath,
"because, I know I'll never be able to do it like how I used too again, and that is what breaks my heart into millions of pieces."

"Why would it calm you down if you'll never be able to do it like how you used too again?" I asked.

"Because my dad always hated running, that's what my mother told me anyways. And doing something he hates, makes me happy. Because I hate him, I hate him more than I hate you; and that says something."

"Now explain to me, why can you not run anymore?"

"I got kicked off of my school track team," She started, leaving the start of the sentence hanging and unfinished.

"Go on." I lectured with a slight scoff.

"I started hanging out with the wrong crowds of people, my grades." She paused, as tears welted her eyes "fuck- they turned to complete shit, I became an alcoholic a-and I was put into rehab, and other things I will not share with you. But I feel like me and you aren't as different as we both think, and that's what scares me." She said in a cracked and strained voice.

I knew I'd get the answer out of her, well, most of the answer anyway.

"You're being dramatic." I tilted my head, "you can still run in the basement at least, it's not like you can never run anymore."

"I can't run without thinking of my lowest times." She shook her head, "and I am not being dramatic."

"Whatever." I shrugged with a sinister smirk on my face, grabbing her empty glass plate that had wet tears dropped on it, I walked over to the sink and turned the water on the coldest setting, washing the plate.

"God." I heard a faint whisper of stress, and a light sniffle. I turned over and saw Bree sitting at the barstool with her head rested in her arms and her brown hair fanned out on the table.

I rolled my eyes, knowing she was crying.

"Don't cry." I muttered, setting the plate in the dishwasher after it had just been washed with a sponge and soapy water.

"Just leave me alone." She said, her head was still hidden.

"And by the way.." I clicked my tongue, "we are absolutely nothing alike, alright?" I referred to what she told me earlier.

This statement made her head shoot up, bloodshot eyes and messy brown hair.

"But-"

"No." I tutted. "Don't say a single word."

She nodded a wordless nod, hopping off of the heightened barstool.