Queenie

04

M I X I E

My first burned as it hit their face over and over again. Metallic stunk up the cell, my hand gripped the collar of the shirt, my fist never ceasing as it collided even harder with the already broken nose. I let out low grunts, the body close to unconsciousness below me, the only sound of my heart beating wildly in my ears. Heat was bursting through my veins, adrenaline shooting like electricity in my body, a sick satisfaction as blood dripped on the floor and smeared my knuckles.

One last sickening crack echoed through the cell before my hand let the collar go and the body made a loud thud as it fell to the floor. I was panting heavily, a malicious grin on my face as the red crimson river pooled out. I straightened my back, rolled my shoulders and let out a breathless laugh. The previous bloodlust that had me on autopilot the last two days was finally resolved and fed.

Blondie McBitch was wheezing on the floor, body twitching, and urine pooling at her crotch and out toward every direction. A face that was once pale and white was now red and swollen, almost unrecognizable. One may think that this is cruel, beating someone to this nature, but most people don't understand, a crime family lives up to their name. Messing with a family of our power and seeing our faces, well there's no way in Hell that you would make it out alive, especially if you have connections to a Mafia.

I stepped away from the quickly spreading urine, my right hand clutched the door open, my left sliding around my back and pulling out a gun. Turning off the safety, cocking it back and aiming was the hardest part, pulling the trigger was a breeze. The barrel aimed at the blondies forehead before trailing down her body, ending up at her stomach, a slow painful death awaits her as I pulled the trigger. Her body flinched off the floor before a slow red flower began to flow from the wound.

A accomplished smile crept up on my lips, bouncing on my toes before strolling out of the cell, leaving it open as I casually walked to the middle table. I could see the men in their cells, standing straight up, all looking at me with void faces, tense shoulders and a hard glare. I shrugged, I couldn't care less about them.

"You will all be fed once a day, when the sun goes down, don't ask for anything unless you want to have lead embedded in those pretty head of yours." I announce loud and clear, my feet moving up the stairs of the underground floor, to the main house. I catch sight of Latrelle who takes a look at my hands and turns his rifle from his front of his body to the back and grabbing a bag from a cubby behind him, I send him a smile and thank you as I head up.

The sun was out bright as all the curtains were open. The house itself was very open with archways and high ceilings. I lived for the black shiny floors. It was my own person addition to the house. My feet moved quickly on the clean floors, my footfalls almost completely silent as I walked with a straight posture and head held high.

Familiarly and, quite frankly, routinely I made my twists and turns to the conference room. Being a family that has a reputation of killing those who have done wrong, most days we have a new person to wipe off the face of the earth, painfully. Also being a more violent family, we have medic bags scattered around the house, the bag in the conference room what I went straight for when I stepped foot in the room.

I unzipped the bag picking out the alcohol wipes and a wrap. I scowled with a hiss as I wiped off the blood from my open knuckles. The cleaning up was the easier part, the wrap, not so much, it always restricted me from doing mundane things. I wrapped my hand tightly, flexing my fingers as I examined my hand. Letting out a small huff, I zipped up the bag, throwing the bloodied wipes in the fire place, lighting it with a match as I tucked the medic bag back into the cabinet. The click sound of heels alerted me of Stella entering the room.