The Boss' Aggression (BWWM)

Chapter XXIV: Finally

Chapter XXIV: Finally

Nothing, I MEAN NOTHING, has been edited
Don't give me any doo doo because of it.

Dante

I was sitting in the guest room, staring off into space. That seemed to be all I did these days. I was beginning to feel like my life was just slipping away. When was I going to be able to go home?

It wasn't like Donnie actually had any need for me. Sure, my wounds were still healing but, that didn't mean that I could have gone home.

In a way, though the stay was more welcoming, I was still a prisoner. I had no free will of where I could go or what I could do. Even where I felt most comfortable, there were still many restrictions.

I enjoy Donnie's company and all, but after a while of being cooped up in the same room, and the same house for days does get really tiring. It gets depressing and I always feel as though this is where I will die.

Dramatical much?

No. Irritated much.

When was this wild roller coaster ride of kidnapping going to end?

All of the lethal weapons and cold blooded murderers? When was it the end?

I never even once believed that there were still gangs like the Italian Mafia that existed.

How could all of this transpire after a job interview?

Argh.

I just wanna pull all of my hair out. Seriously.

Putting my head in my hands, I tossed the pencil I fiddled with on the ground.

As I came from my daydreaming, I glanced around and noticed the mess of books and pieces of paper I had lying around. At the moment, I was sitting in a guest room. There were many things to keep me entertained in this one room. There was nothing else to do, this was one of the many rooms I had the privilege to be in. I began to feel that maybe there were secrets I wasn't supposed to know. Weird, but this is how I felt. I always felt like these men had something to hide.

What was there to hide thought? If there was something they didn't want me to see then why would they put it somewhere that I could find it?

Scoffing, I got up from the chair I was sitting in and got down on my knees to start stacking the books into a pile.

The random pieces of lined and printer paper I had lying around all had little doodles on them. I contemplated whether I should throw them away, because I thought the little doodles I drew were cute.

After a few minutes of actually thinking about it, I decided to keep one of them and balled the rest of them into a big paper ball.

Grabbing the pile of books, and the ball of papers in my arm, I walked to the trash bin and  trashed the papers as I placed the books back into the book shelf. Going back to where I threw the pencil, I picked it up and placed it into the pen and pencil holder on the desk.

Walking out of the guest room, I began to think about the interaction me and Donnie had.

I had pushed it to the back of my head, trying my best not to think much about it. Even though every now and then it really bothered me on some levels. I couldn't really describe it. What I felt.

I believe the situation I'm in is clouding majority of my judgement. Whereas all of the violence and the being an prisoner, is taking toll on me entirely.

Though I rarely think about the hard time I had before I came and stayed with Donnie and his father, the knowledge of it actually happening is traumatizing.