Written in Anger

~ 6

"I ain't got it, okay!" he yells back at me.

Janet steps in front of my desk, which she's done plenty of times before, acknowledging Terrence.

"Are you sure you don't have my brother's money," Janet says in her sweetest voice.

"I don't have twenty grand on me right now." He seems nervous now.

Janet turns to me with a smirk playing on her lips. I nod, giving her permission to do whatever she's about to do.

She punches him in the nose, and I watch while he falls to the ground. She grabs him my the collar of his shirt and hits him two more times in his face. I just watch in pleasure while my little sister hurts him with no regrets at all.

Once she stops, I look over to Kyela who looks incredibly terrified. I know exactly what I want to do next.

"I'm going to do something new today," I say while rubbing my chin, "Everybody out, except for Kyela," I tell them.

"Michael, are you serious?" Jackie asks me.

"I'm dead serious," I say.

"But Michael.." Janet starts.

"Out!"

They file out of the room, and up the stairs one by one. The room holds only me, Kyela, and Terrence who happens to be rolling on the floor in pain.

"Come here," I tell her.

She reluctantly walks over to my desk with a blank expression on her face. I can tell she's scared though. I reach into the drawer of my desk and take my revolver, that's fully loaded, and place it in her hands.

She looks up at me with her big green eyes like she's scared.

"Shoot him."

She sighs before turning around with the gun pointing directly at Terrence's head. She places her finger on the trigger, and I feel the excitement in my chest from her about to really kill him.

"I can't do this," she finally says.

"Yes you can," I whisper.

She shakes her head, and I roll my eyes. I take my jacket off, throwing it onto my chair. She looks away from me and back to Terrence.

"Here," I say while engulfing her hands in mine around the gun.

She's much taller now that she's wearing heels that Rebbie gave to her. Oh my goodness, I cannot resist a woman in heels. I can even smell her hair too: oranges.

"You're not really going to do this," she says.

"Yes I am," I reply.

This reminded of earlier this week when I was first teaching her how to use the gun. She really didn't want to, but I had to force her.

"If you don't do it, I'll use this gun to blow your brains out," I threatened.

Her eyes widened at my threat, like they always do, and she sighed,

"I don't even know how to do this," she says.

I roll my eyes at her lack of knowledge on guns, like seriously.

"Wasn't your dad a police officer?"

"How did you know that," her voice was small, scared almost.

"Don't worry about it," I snapped, "I'll show you how to use it."

I put the small pistol in her hand as her fingers trembled with fear. I don't understand why she was so scared. It's not like she was shooting a real person. Yet. She put her and straight out in front of her, aiming towards the old car that I used for a target.