the mafia

a new life

4 months had passed and type was cleaning his guns on a Saturday morning.
He kept a few here and there around his place. Type didn't think anyone would follow him or put a hit on him however he was cautious.
Looking at his alarm Clock on his table it was going off.
"Time for work." He smiled.
Getting up he hide his guns fully loaded places he could access them quickly if need be.
Once hidden he was already dressed.
Type walked to work always looking over his shoulder.
In four months he made sure he was well hidden, type grew out his hair, tanned up a bit and wore different clothes.
He also moved far away from where the compound was, settling in a hidden place that was a bit poor but type could live and be happy.
At his work he crotched down to pick at weeds that were trying to kill the fruit bushes.
Where type worked it paid well and it was too hidden.
Type was a farm worker who worked early in the morning to late at night.
Smiling he was getting to a place of peace.
Everything about his new life was bringing him peace after everything he went through. In the back of his mind he did miss tharn but he was done.
"Lunch time!" Sara yelled.
Type wipped sweat from his forehead to get up going to her with a smile. She swooned.
"Your smile is the only thing making these hot days bareable."
She nodded handing him a drink.
He took it to nod back.
Gathering his lunch he sat on the bosses car, looking forward, kicking his legs up and down chewing slowly.
Breathing in he always on guard.
The day went by quick and he was able to go home early.
Walking to the street corner he grabbed out a bag from his pocket to gather some apples and other fruits.
Paying he nodded placing the bag on his arm.
Walking He ate an apple looking with his perhivoral vision to stop dead on the sidewalk.
Swallowing the apple piece he turned his head all the way to the side. His eyes narrowed.
Tharn was there on the other side of the street looking at him with narrowed eyes.
Type breathed heavily in.
A large truck went by. Type moved his head to the side trying to Keep eye contact but when the truck left he was gone.
Type gritted his teeth.
Was this real. Was he really there? Did he find me?
Type stood there hyperventilating.
Eyes darted rapidly trying to figure out if this was real.
Gulping type needed to go home.
Turning his body he paced quickly away.
He went a few different ways looking over his shoulder to make sure he wasent followed.
Sighing, after an hour of doing this he was half sure he was okay to go home.
Walking slowly keeping his eyes darting everywhere he went home.
Once inside he looked at everything. Nothing seemed to be out of place.
Placing the bag on the table he went to his guns to make sure they were there and loaded.
Type shook his head.
Maybe it was all in my head?
Taking a deep breathe he shrugged to place the gun back.
Getting up he went to the kitchen making himself dinner while drinking some water.
How long til i get over him?
Type shook his head while he cut the vegetables.
Throwing the dinner together he went to his living room to sit on the edge of the couch looking forward to listen.
He heard nothing but the world outside his house.
Type Hated he had to be constantly on guard.
Taking a deep breathe he swallowed the rest of his food.
In the kitchen he washed his dish and cup to put his arms to the sinks counter looking out the window.
Narrowing his eyes he shook his head back and Forth.
"It's been 4 months and nothing. You can live a little."
Taking a deep breathe he turned to go to a cabinet grabbing his bottle of vodka.
Standing in the kitchen he looked down to it slighly confused.
The top was already screwed open.
"Stop being paranoid type, you probably opened it when you first got it then didn't take a drink."
Opening the top he downed it.
Taking it from his mouth his body shuttered then he made a sick sound.
"Mmm been to long."
With a smile he brought it back up to drink more.
Oddly his vision started to get blurry.
Type brought the bottle down to look at it getting a bit wobbly.
He didn't consume that much.
Then he remembered that other then lock picking tharn was proficient in drugs that you couldn't tell was in drinks.
Type bent over to drop the bottle to the floor for it to shatter everywhere.
"God damn!!" He groaned.
"Yyour yyour gun! Go to your..."
Moving wobbly to one of his guns type leaned his body to the side of the door frame to look up clutching his stomach, the room was moving.
Looking up his eyes darted.
Tharn was standing in the living room holding one of his guns spinning it around.
"Looking for this."
Type breathed heavily he was getting hot and drowsy.
Gulping he took a wobbly step forward reaching for it to take one last look into tharns eyes.
"You... Fucking.... Conniving......mmmm....prick!!"
Then he fell to the ground on his stomach with his arm still out reaching.
Tharn threw the gun to the couch to crotch down to gather type up in a bridal style. He looked to him sleeping peacefully.
"I've given you enough time. Now we need to talk."
Turning tharn left with type fully drugged to take him into a car to drive him to his hidden place.