My Mafia King

29 | One Year Ago

"Nah we didn't. She's just playing games."

The sound of their footsteps becomes closer with every second. They trip over the dead body and land on the floor, just as I predicted.

Then I pounce.

I bash their heads together and then grab a knife from my boot and stab it into their throats. I pull it out and lick the blood off of the knife.

Three down. Two more to go.

✮ ✮ ✮

A few weeks later, I find myself holding a little girl's fate in my hands. Yavok grabs my chin and forces me to look at the young girl tied to the chair.

"Slow or quick death? Which one is it, Athena?" He asks me.

I've done this multiple times. Forced to pick a little child's death. I've always picked a quick death for them then I watch them die to try and feel guilty but I can't.

The little girl has tape over her mouth and she cries and cries.

My lips thin, trying to find my heart.

Dammit.

Let me use my brain then.

"I need to go toilet," I announce and walk to the door, then before I leave I add, "Wait til I get back so I can pick."

Yavok narrows his eyes but nods.

He thinks he's tamed me. That I'll obey him forever. That I'll never leave him. That I have fucking Stockholm syndrome.

He's lost his mind.

I walk into the corridor and the guards watch me carefully making sure I don't try anything.

I could kill them all if I had a knife. I need a little bit more training and then I could kill them all with my bare hands.

I take a left and then go then see the guard outside the security room.

"Yavok said to turn off the cameras and the lights in five minutes for about ten minutes or so," I tell him.

The guard furrows his eyebrows, "What for?"

"Trying something new for training," I shrug.

He nods and turns around, I see his wallet in his back pocket. I quickly slide it out of his pocket and put it in my bra.

He doesn't notice and goes into the security room.

I listen to him tell them then I quickly walk to the bathroom and go in there and lock it.

I have four minutes and thirty-two seconds now.

I crouch down and find the knife behind the toilet. I put it in the waistband of my sweatpants and then flush the toilet and wash my hands.

"Three minutes and forty-five seconds," I mumble to myself as I wash my hands.

I turn the tap off and quickly dry my hands and unlock the door.

Walking out of the bathroom, I calculate how much time I'll take walking back.

I'll take one minute and thirty seconds if I walk normally.

So I do that. I'm not nervous. I just need to be normal. No one thinks I'm normal.

Use your brain.

Not your heart.

I make it back to the room and now I have one minute and forty-five seconds.