Leader Of The Mafia {h.s}

017

TW: violence

( Play song when you see $ )

Harry Styles

As I stood in front of my bathroom mirror, sticking my tongue between my teeth as my loose fitted black tee shirt hung from my body; I ran my fingers through my hair, ruffling with it.

Then, opened my medicine cabinet that was just to the right of my sink, I pulled out a toothbrush and toothpaste; followed by deodorant.

I brushed my teeth, putting the deodorant through my shirt and spraying the odor-free spray on places that would sweat.

I squinted my eyes at the slightly shattered mirror from a few nights ago. Safe to say, that Sunday night didn't go as planned.

I shrugged, fishing into my pockets for a cigarette, as I was about to light it; I paused.

Well I certainly can not light it, Breelyn has too.

I put the cigarette back in the box, putting the box filled with harmful sticks in my back pocket, followed by my black lighter with the blue teardrop on it.

I tramped down the spiral staircase, seeing Bree at the kitchen island counter, she was drinking from a glass of water writing something in that damn journal. Today was a new day, a new day meant a new journal entry.

I rolled my eyes at now fixated she was on that stupid journal. How can one be so attached to a leather book filled with blank pages that are destined to be filled out with shareable feelings and thoughts?

I stepped on the tile, the soles of my rugged boots made a clank sound hitting the cold hardwood.

"What are you doing?" I asked Bree, she was still lost in her thoughts writing in the journal full of emotions, well at least I think it was emotions, and thoughts. I'd never looked through her journal. And, I don't intend to, ever. I could care less about the thoughts that pass through her working, mind spinning head, and the emotions she feels throughout the day.

"Journaling." She stated, as if it was obvious.

"Hmm," I hummed. "Some business needs to get done today, you'll stay here of course."

"Why? Can I come?" She asked, and I just looked at her in utter confusion at her lack of smartness.

"Are you actually stupid?" I pressed my middle finger lightly into the side of her head, "of course you can not come with me. What the hell are you thinking?"

"Please-" she pleaded with a grin.

( play song $ )

I've had it up to here.

I pulled the switchblade out of my pocket, flicking it to the sharp blade as I pressed her back against the counter and held the metal sharpness to her neck.

"Do you want to die?!" I boomed, the blade that was pressed firmly into her neck, starting to break skin; she was in lack of response from bladed pressure to her skin.

She only shook her head no, but it seems as if she thought about her answer before responding silently.

I removed the lightly blood coated blade very slowly, flicking it down so the pointy blade was no longer exposed to air.

"As I way saying..." I hummed, "I'm going out, and, I won't be back for quite a while."

"O-okay." Breelyn shook her head, a drop of blood trickled down her neck from the small slit that was in her throat.