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Tightening my huge bun that is skillfully hiding a knife, I smirk at the weak man standing in front of me. His desperate eyes flicker to the door in the distance, clearly considering his options of leaving me and running for his life. This monstrous idiocy keeps surprising me. No one here knows shit and I realized this the second I saw their boss. His type is very usual in this business, the one who is weak deep down, hiding behind the title of a boss to ensure some easy fuck and a whole bunch of money. Pathetic.
"Tell me what the fuck you know, bastardo."
"Miss Martinelli," He says in a whimper, my last name sounds disgusting on his weak tongue and I want to kill him on the spot. "I can't help you in your search. But we have a lot of drugs and money, we even have women, you can have my women!"
"Patetico," I smirk at him and take a step closer to him. Tilting my head to the side I rip my gun from the holster around my thigh, pushing it against his chest and meeting his frightened eyes. "I am of no fucking interest in any of your shit, you couldn't give me the answer that I wanted, and no one likes loose ends. Ho ragione?" (Am I right?).
"I can give you some of my men!" He tries to bargain, the desperation on his voice has me laughing on the inside. Watch this cretino beg me for his life. I wonder how many must've done the exact same to him. I love this, I love the high of having a man beg for his life, I love the power of deciding whether he gets to live or not. He is a monster as much as I am, the only problem is that I have the upper hand now. Problem for him, that is. "They can be there for you and even please you, if you wish."
"Funny how you believe I need anyone," I say and pull the trigger on his heart, the bullet pierces his skin and he drops down in front of me. Blood oozes from him instantly and I walk away from the sight, my heels the only sound carrying through the dimly lit warehouse. None of these idiots can bring me what I need, none of them will give me the information. They're acting all tough and rich, but whenever I mention the Italian mafia all of them shut up.
****
Walking into my dark and cold apartment, I throw my gun onto the kitchen counter and rip the holster from my thighs. Tucking the knives out of my hair, I pull the brown mess out of the bun and ruffle it up. This evening will be spent on research, like I've been doing for the past two years by now. The Italian mafia knows how to hide their tracks and it fucks with me. I even moved to Italy for a whole year, trying to find them there seemed like a desperate attempt which is why I found myself in the US again.
There isn't that much to know on the mafia, the information is limited, and everything is one big fucking secret. Many hours of torturing others have brought me some news though, people are weak for their limbs and I barely get to threaten their families before the victim is spilling everything to me. None of them know who I am or what I'm doing. None of them know why there is a psychotic woman searching for the mafia, wanting to kill the boss and finding pleasure in the mere idea of it.
I know some of the men who work under the mafia, all of them are ruthless and will stop at nothing. Fighting fire with fire is the only manner in which I can overpower them, this is me choosing fire and choosing to end the life of the colpevole. The Romano bloodline is in charge of the mafia and those are the ones I'm targeting; I need to find Mr. Romano before he finds me.
Their boss messed up recently and I know I'm closer to them than I've ever been before, they're here and I will find them. Ever since I found my dad's lifeless body on the wet ground in front of our house, along with my mother and little brother, I've been on the warpath. I want the guilty one's blood on my hands and no part of me is willing to stop before that happens.
My dad left me a letter that explained everything, from his involvement with the Italian mafia, to him trying to get out of it and running away with my mom. They tried to get a life for us, a life without the fear of bosses and mobs targeting us, a life worth living. The only issue is that the mafia must've overlooked me, not knowing of my existence. This is something I will use to my advantage.
I only let my victims know of my last name. One man figured out my name and it didn't end up in his favor.
Pulling yet another nail from his bloody fingers, his screams ring through the air and I smirk before leaning into him. "Such a shame, why are you putting yourself through this unnecessary pain?" I ask and tut at him; the feeling of power is addicting.
"You act all mighty, Eloisa," He whimpers, and the sound of my name has me angered, none of them will ever know my name and he now does. "The Italian mafia would kill me before I had the chance to tell you shit!"
Eloisa. I haven't heard that name since it left the lips of my mom, she said goodbye to me when I left to go hang out with a friend of mine. This proved to be the worst day of my life and this bastardo just reminded me. Grabbing a butcher knife, I realize he won't tell me anything. Loose end, I think and dig the knife into his neck hearing him choke on his own blood before life leaves his eyes.
These past few years have changed me into the most sinister monster out there, killing sprees are all I know, torturing people by ripping one nail off at a time until they answer me, ignoring the sight of women being dealt around. The enjoyment of someone begging for their life, before the monster within me kills them off. Not one single ounce of remorse in my body.
The only true issue is,
That I fucking like this monster.