Leader Of The Mafia {h.s}

036

"What is your problem?!" I shouted. He didn't respond. I scoffed at the inconsiderate bastard. I was just trying to ask why he did that, was that too much for me to ask of him?

I stood up from the bathroom floor. I was not having it with him, I crossed my arms and ran my tongue over my lips. I followed him with my arms crossed, a hip in my step.

He was walking into the room. The room that was filled with Scream character masks, cigarettes, ash trays, teardrops on the walls, balaclava masks, guns, knives, bubbles, grain lighting.

He slammed the door; I pressed my ear against it to hear what was going on. I wanted to know, needed to know.

I cupped my hands around my ear, so the sound would travel louder and clearer through the air. I heard the clock of a gun, and faint whispered profanities of shame.

"You'll tell her eventually, you have too, Harry." The gun clocked back. I swallowed the lump of nervousness in my throat, what did he have to tell me? A tear rolled down my cheek, but I quickly wiped it away. Crying won't help me, listening and being tough, will.

"It's only a matter of time. A matter of time till she will find out. It's going to be hard." He scoffed under his breath. "You weren't supposed to like her, you were supposed to bring her to her dad. But he's dead. So what use is she now? I'm keeping her here for no reason." Was he going to kill me?

"I don't want anyone else to have her. She's mine." I'm his? Then why is he clocking back a gun?

"It's time for your uniform." Was the last thing he said to himself before I felt my head pound. I was scared, really, really fucking scared.

I was tempted to kick the door down, catch him in the act. Red handed. But I didn't, I don't want to get ahead of myself. I sniffled, and shuffled my feet slightly.

I turned the handle slightly, and I heard a grunt come from the other side of the door. He must've heard me. I let go of the metal door handle and ran down the stairs.

It was crazy, the man I woke up next to was now talking to himself holding a gun in a wicked room. What was my life? I've never expected myself to be in this situation, but here I was. As always, expect the unexpected.

I hid in the kitchen, probably the most obvious place to be found. But if he saw me, he wouldn't hurt me. Right? He won't, he won't hurt me. I kept repeating the words to myself. Whether the claim was the truth, or not.

I heard footsteps walking down the hardwood stairs, and towards me. I swallowed down my nervousness. I saw his eyes, the dark green ones, locking with mine.

He stomped towards me, a gun below his waistband. A smirk appeared on his face, but it slowly disappeared into a look of regret.

"What'd you hear?" He mumbled, his jaw locked tight.

"W-what do you mean?" I asked acting like I knew nothing, in reality...I heard most of it.

"Don't play stupid with me, Breelyn." He cocked his head to the side. He only calls me Breelyn when he has mad at me, or suspicious of me. "Whatever you heard, forget about it. Think of it as a dream, a crazy hallucination. Got it?" He said.