02 - unpleasantries

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"If life were predictable, it would cease to be life and be without flavor."

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II. UNPLEASANTRIES

Sitting on her bed, just two floors above where Kane previously stood, was a pouting Scarlett Vitale. She was sick and tired of her father trying to control every aspect of her life, she decided.

Scarlett pouted once again as she glared at the cream colored walls in anger. She had heard the commotion going on downstairs a few minutes ago, so she knew that her designated bodyguard had already arrived at the estate.

Maybe I could just suffocate him in his sleep with a pillow. She thought.

Oh, who was she kidding? Although she was the daughter of a vicious gang leader, Scarlett knew she didn't have it in her to even hurt a fly. While Vincent was cold blooded and killed unblinkingly, Scarlett was more like her mother— gentle and nurturing. Scarlett just wasn't a violent person, even though she grew up around guns, knives, and guys who bragged about how many penises they've shot up.

Yeah, weird people. I know. Don't even ask me about it. Scarlett muttered to herself in her mind.

Perhaps if she just wished hard enough, her bodyguard would spontaneously combust into dust and float the frick out of her life.

Again, not likely. Damn it.

Just as Scarlett was trying to come up with more ways to dispose of her new 'bodyguard', the door burst open. She looked at it in alarm, only to find Marc standing in the doorway, completely out of breath. He was one of Scarlett's favorite people in this entire gang, and it was probable that the only reason her father hadn't killed Marc yet was because he knew how much Scarlett enjoyed Marc's company. There wasn't any other use of him in this gang anyways. To put it gently, Marc was a 'f*cking idiot', as her father liked to say.

"Would it kill you to knock, Marcus?" Scarlett huffed in annoyance. Although Marc was her best friend and she truly enjoyed his company, he could also be so insufferably annoying sometimes that Scarlett wanted to smash his face in with a brick.

Maybe I am violent after all, she thought to herself. Whoops? Blame my father.

"Ooo, calling me by my full name. I'm terrified!" Marc said sarcastically, successfully gaining her attention as Scarlett diverted her glare towards him.

"What do you want?" She whined.

"A Lamborghini would be nice." He replied, his legs dangling off the bed as he laid down on her mattress.

"After you completely trashed mine? Yeah, no. I don't think you and race cars go too well." Scarlett muttered. Yes, she was still salty that Marc had run her Lambo into a freaking lamp post. A lamp post!

Fatally FallingWaar verhalen tot leven komen. Ontdek het nu