T H I R D P E R S O N P O V
"Kinsley Russo." he said, keeping the hood over his eyes. "Our visiting hours are over sir, you can come visit tomorrow at 9." The receptionist told him. He took out a crumpled 100, sliding it towards the woman.
She looked around at the empty halls, slowly taking the money from the counter. "Room 810, don't let anyone see you." She dug her head back into the book she was previously reading.
He nodded, walking towards the stairs. What if they were sitting up there? He thought, rethinking his decisions. No, visiting hour's are over.
The elevator door opens, revealing an empty waiting room. He let out a breath of relief, continuing down the hallway. 807, 808, 809, he paused, stopping in his tracks. I need to leave. He told himself.
810, He let out a breath once more, letting his fingers trace over the doorknob. You bring me the girl, or you die. The words replay over and over in his head. It's your final chance. He shook his head, walking further into the room. He hurriedly closed the door behind him, stepping away from the window.
He looked at the girl, she looked so broken.
This is all your fault.
She wouldn't be here if you would have been a normal kid.
He shook his head again, walking closer to the girl. He took the time to look at her, to actually notice her.
She was pale, cold to touch. Scars, scratches, bruises, scattered her body. They scattered her body because of him. She wouldn't have been laying here if it wasn't for him.
You came here to do something, so do it.
Come on, get it over with already.
He held his hands together, trying to stop the shaking. He couldn't possibly do it. He couldn't bring himself to kill the only light shining in so many others lives, in his life.
Come on. Just do it.
You only have two choices.
Two choice's which he had zero choice in. Two choice's that he didn't even want to do. Two choice's that would both end up causing him the same outcome. The choice's being he dies from his family, or he dies from his men.
He took the note from his pocket, reading it over one last time.
My family,
If you're reading this, it probably mean's your precious principessa is dead to the hands of someone you'd never think twice about, Mario.
There is so much to tell you, so so much in which I have no time telling. By the time you're reading this, i've disappeared. Not only from you, but from Maxim's own men.
I give you all my sincerest apologies. Until we meet again..
Mario.
He folded the paper in half, stuffing it back into his pocket. The beep of the heart monitor slowly rises, telling him it's time to make some sort of decision.
He bowed his head, grabbing ahold of her hand. "Please forgive me." He whispers. "I'm so sorry." He repeated those few word's, once, twice, many time's.
He took his hand from the girl, drying his tears which couldn't be held back anymore. He walked to the door, opening it softly, then closing it behind him.
He looked in the room one last time, secretly praying the girl will soon get better, that she wouldn't have to worry about anything anymore.
But little did he know, she was to far gone. A simple prayer wouldn't take her out of the dark hole she was stuck in. A simply prayer from the man that caused all of this wouldn't help her one bit.
He walked towards the elevator, from the elevator out the doors. He held his hood over his face. "And what do you think you're doing showing your face in a place like this?" Roman coughed from the side of the building, the rest of his family slowly making a circle around him.
"You didn't think you'd get away with this, did you?" Elijah asked, crossing his arm's over his chest. "I mean, seriously. A 100 bill, that's the best you could do?" Blake glared.
Mario slowly backed up, knocking into the front of his brother Robert. "Oh brother. You've really dug yourself deep in this one." Robert smiled, grabbing ahold of his brothers arm.
Mario's eyes widened in fear as he understood what was going on. "G-guys. Really, t-this isn't necessary. I-I was only visiting my dear ni-" "She wouldn't be laying in that fucking bed right now if it wasn't for you." Matteo interrupted his uncle.
"Ya know, I'm sick and tired of my family going through so much. And what do people like you get in return?" Matteo grabbed ahold of his shirt collar. "Nothing." Mario whispered. "Hmm, please speak louder Uncle." He pressed a knife to his neck. "N-nothing. Matteo, son let me go. Please, I won't show my face again. I-I can promise yo-" "You promised you wouldn't hurt her either. You promised that you'd always be there to protect your family in return for your own protection. But where the fuck were you, Mario? Where the fuck were you when she needed you the most. Huh? She fucking needed us and we didn't help her. This is all your fault."
It's like he snapped. Matteo had officially snapped. He flipped the switch he told himself he wouldn't ever flip again.
"This is all your fault." He broke, letting go of his uncle. Mario took that as a sign to get the hell out of there, and fast. But Roman could practically see through his mind. When Mario started running, so did Roman.
It's not the smartest idea to run from a 18 year old who's been running his whole life. Not running like this, in a sense, but running from his own issues. Roman understood that that was exactly what Mario was doing. The run was shortly over due to the fact that Roman had Mario pinned underneath him.
"You stupid son of a bitch!" He yelled. "This." punch "Is" punch "all" punch "your" punch "fault."
Roman too had broke. His hands were bloodied, but that didn't stop him from continuing the abuse against his Uncle. Mario made no attempt in stopping the boy. He just lay there, taking each hit.
Footsteps ascended towards the two, pulling Roman off of Mario. "Let me go. I'm not fucking done." He seethed. "Calm down brother." Andrea said, holding his youngest brother tightly in his arms.
"Calm down! Calm down!" He repeated. "I can't fucking control my anger, Andrea! I can't fucking control the fact that I want to beat his fucking face in. He hurt her. He hurt us. I don't understand how you're gonna sit there and say calm down." He tried to get free from his brothers hold.
He soon stopped fighting, resting against his brothers hold as sobs escaped the young boy.
"I just want her to be ok."
K I N S L E Y ' S P O V
They're seriously going crazy out their Kinsley. Wake up.
They need you right now.
"I don't understand why she isn't waking up. It's been nearly two week's. They said she'd show some signs of improvement by now." One said from the corner of the room.
"Her body has been through quite a lot these past few years. She just needs time to heal properly." Another said, scribbling something down on the paper.
There were the two words I hated the most. Time and heal. I've already said enough about time. I don't need anymore, I have enough.
Heal. When will I be healed? When can I leave this uncomfortable bed with these annoying beeping noises? Will I be healed then? After I leave?
Healing is the long process in which you become healthy again, you become better. I've been living for 16 years, and I have yet to be healed. I've only been alive a short few months, the months i've been with my brothers.
Ive been healing for the few months that i've been with them. But not the proper healing, not the mentally healing.
My definition of healing isn't like others. Mine is simply, 'you get better whenever you work harder.' And at this moment in time, I have not put in any effort to work.
"Her heart rate just spiked." The one from the corner said.
Wake up Kinsley. That mean's you need to wake up.
"Just wake up, kid."
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Thank you so so much for the reads, the comments, and the votes! I appreciate it so much!!
I hope you've been taking care of yourself.
<3 K