The Mafia Queen (Rewritten)

Chapter 1

(At the age of 13 years old)

The silver gun weighed heavy in my small hands as I studied the balding man with his hands handcuffed behind his back begging for his life at my feet. I take a few uneven breaths trying to  will my shaking hands to finally steady themselves as I face the man soon to be executed for his crimes. That is if I could get the guts to do it. I watched as tears slid from his eyes and down his wrinkling face, almost feeling sorry for the predicament he was in. The musky smell of the damp forest mixed with urine invaded my nostrils nauseating me and threatening to bring up the meal I just finished having with this vile creature just moments ago. Sort of reminded me of a spider spinning her web of death; play with your food and kill it later. The wind made the branches on the trees dance and sway in quite a creepy way as if reaching for the ground. I couldn't help but feel bad for the poor guy who clearly just pissed himself with eyes starring into the barrel of the gun aimed at his head. The world around me spun as emotions overwhelmed me. 

The man's left eye was swollen shut matching his fat lip earned by yours truly along with blood dripping from his clearly broken nose earning some respect from my father's bodyguards. The bruises already turning deep shades of purple and black. His shirt ripped open at the back harshly with a knife allowing him to be whipped in the hopes of receiving the answers we desperately needed. No one knew who the snitch was, but had got news that this man may have had something we needed to find out the truth about such crude rumors being passed around about my father. Turns out this old sac was more useless than sunglasses on a pitch black night and had a craving for young girls. Behind his back, his wrists in handcuffs with missing fingers as a warning for feeling up my thigh, thinking my father hadn't seen him. He was very much mistaken as my father grabbed him by the throat when we exited the restaurant and was thrown in the back of a black van.

"Shoot him" my father walked up beside me, a look of disappointment written clearly on his wrinkled face. He placed his hand on my shoulder as if trying to reassure me all would be fine when I did as I was asked; not that I was convinced. 

I peered up at my father hoping he would see how hard I was struggling to pull the trigger and end the life of this being. His greying hair soaked from the rain that had just stopped. His cold blue eyes boring into my soul as he continued to demand I kill the beast as initiation into his mafia. I never understood what killing had to do with becoming one with the gang, but I was old enough to know better than to ask questions. Especially when he was in one of his moods. 

"Stop being such a fucking baby!" He cursed me making his presence very much known. Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them back. Something in me snapped in that moment. No one calls me a baby and gets away with it. My finger ever so slowly put pressure on the trigger and I watched as the bullet went through his skull leaving him limp. Blood sprayed the ground in a revolting mess as it sunk into the dirt beneath our feet as the dry leaves were painted a new colour giving them false life.

The gun involuntarily fell from my hand causing the leaves under it to crunch on impact. A single tear fell from my eye no longer able to keep it in as I re-watched the entire thing in my mind. The life drained so fast from the now lifeless corpse. I stared down at my hands in shock as if it weren't my own as the realization of what I've done creeps up on me.

"I've killed him" my voice cracks, barely audible.

"Yes, you have my precious girl. You have yourself your very first victim." I didn't need to look at him to hear what seemed like pride over someone's death. His death was my new life. My initiation into a life of killing and power-hungry monsters. 

For a few minutes my body refuses to respond to my demand to move. My eyes never leaving the dead body that now lay cold at the expense of my hand. My jaw clenched as I fought back more tears as the guilt filled my chest making it nearly impossible to breathe.