Leader Of The Mafia {h.s}

010

Bree Tyler

I smacked my face on something cold and hard the second my eyes peeled open.

"Ow!" I screeched, I looked around and I was sitting in the kitchen at the island counter in a barstool.

I twisted my neck back and forth to minimal the neck pain that was excruciating.

Once my neck popped and crack a forbidden yet familiar scent hit my nose and blaring music hit my ears.

Weed.

It was coming from upstairs, I rolled my eyes hopping off the barstool, but something else caught my eyes.

It was nighttime.

I really spent my whole day sleeping at a barstool counter?

I sighed, that must be why my neck hurt so badly.

I then trotted towards the spiral staircase, my nose directing the scent. Once reaching the top of the staircase, Harrys bedroom door was closed, but smoke was coming out from the bottom of the crack in his door.

I walked towards his door, reaching for the handle, twisting and turning it; but it wouldn't budge. Harry must've locked it.

"Harry?!" I shouted over the loud tunes.

"What?!" An slightly familiar Irish accent shouted back.

It sounded like the one that shouted over the loud music at Cartin's Angel club a couple days ago.

"Harry? Are you in there?!" I toggled with the lock again, ignoring the Irish voice.

"Stop twisting the lock damnit!" Finally, I heard Harrys voice, it wasn't pleasant.

"Can I come in?" I screeched, knocking on the black wooden door, when I suddenly knocked a hard chest.

Blue eyes and platinum blond hair was the first sight I saw, I quickly pulled my fist away from his chest.

"Feisty, aren't ya?" An Irish cackle erupted from the unfamiliar mans throat, as he bit his pierced lip.

"Wha-whats going on?" I shook my head and shut my eyes softly before meeting blue ones again.

"What does it look like gorgeous? We're having a smoke session." He smirked, moving to the side a bit for me to see the inside of Harrys room.

My throat suddenly tightened when I looked over at Harry flopped on his bed, a joint sticking between his pump lips with hair messed on his bed, beside him was a girl who was almost naked in non-matching underwear and bra.

She was laying in the spot that I was laying in this morning.

I swallowed the tightness in my throat, and shook my head slightly, my feet walked away from the door when the blond boy called out.

"Ya don't wanna smoke-"

The whores voice interrupted the Irish boy.

"What. Is. This?" She asked in a ghetto voice, holding up a leather book.

It was my journal.

My stomach dropped, no one, and I mean no one could ever look through my journal. I don't want people to know my feelings; I'll just get judged for how I feel anyways.

"Hey that's mine!" I hollered, running into the weed scented bedroom, the music pierced my ears.

"Shall we look through it?" Harry referred to my journal, smirking at the woman next to him.