The Evil That Men Do | $UICIDEBOY$ | $CRIM

Prologue

(Before I start, I just wanna let you know this story is going to take a while to get through. I have lots of ideas, so I appreciate your patience! If it doesn't make sense now, it will later. I try to pre-write chapters to give me time to piece it all together, so updates will be slower. But please vote if you enjoy, thank you again! Enjoy!)

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The rooms are always cold. Not just the temperature, but the atmosphere it gave me always feels one step closer to hell. I don't have much belief of what's beyond this life, but I know hospitals are the farthest from paradise.

My dad's pale, sun-spotted arm lay by his side, a series of IVs were inserted in his arm and hand, as well as an oxygen mask over his nose. I couldn't look at his face in this condition. Even on his deathbed, it shattered my soul to see him like this. Lung cancer on top of pneumonia is enough to take him out for good. And I couldn't do much besides just wait.

Wait for the most dreadful moment anyone in their life has to face. A loved one's death.

He refused treatment when he found out. He was hardheaded and the last thing he wanted to be seen looking like in public was a "bald, shell of a man." That's how he described himself, anyway. Everyone in the family and everyone he worked with told him he was insane. He had the money to easily pay off his bills. He was the top leader in the local New Orleans drug cartel and had international trades in Greece. Not to mention selling illegal weapons on the side. He wasn't a dumb man by any means, he just had a stick up his ass about "looking fragile." Chemotherapy wasn't on his to-do list.

But now I sit here and wait for the moment. My older brother, Gavin, couldn't make it. Since my dad's continuous stay here, my brother had taken over the jobs my dad had left behind. This is what he would've wanted anyway. He was always telling my brother what to do, how to get better and to master the "art." It wasn't art, though. It was a job. A very tedious, dangerous, and horrible fucking job.

But my brother thought otherwise and that's why my father has more investments in his success. I helped, of course, but I always knew what to do. I knew the reasons why, I understood every assignment and I would finish without hesitation. It's the family I was born into. I have no way out other than to be a "bad guy" like the rest, I guess. It's just to make a living. It's to survive, and I didn't know anything else but this. Having to start over wasn't on my to-do list.

My dad took it to another level with high ambitions. He just got too sick too quickly.

And so here we are.

"Winnie." My eyes shot to my dad, who was now out of unconsciousness, sending my heart rate sky high.

"Dad," I hurriedly approached him, clasping his hand. I was at my mother's death bed, and now my father's. Dying completely different ways. "I just want you to know that we'll be okay."

He smirked slightly, coughed a bit, and then sighed. He gazed up at the ceiling. "I think it should be you that handles the affairs I've associated our name with. Gavin being your righthand man." I blinked at him. He must be brain dead or insane.

"You're dying. This isn't funny."

He had an expression of offense. "It's not a joke. You've always handled these jobs and exceeded over your expectations since day one. You're naturally born to do this. You've proven it to me since the moment I saw you work." I rolled my eyes. This is absurd. Flattered, but it didn't feel right. Not right now, anyway.

He's literally dying.

"Gavin, yes, is my first child and only son, and I've thought about it for a while now. You're astronomical compared to anything he's shown me. You know you outrank him, but you question yourself? Do you question me?" He was blunt just like he's always was. He can pick me apart and tell exactly what's wrong based on my reactions. He's trained me since I was a child, of course he can read me. Same with Gavin.

"It seemed you urged him to take your spot with this insistent training and strive to do better and to be 'perfect'," I admitted. "I'm younger and he's been doing this longer than I have. I don't mean to doubt you, I just wanted to understand the reason."

"You're capable. Gavin knows you're capable, too. I push him to do better, yeah. It doesn't mean I prefer him over you. I don't prefer either of you over each other. But you are far more witted and stronger than Gavin. He even knows this himself." I shook my head.

He coughed again. I sighed and let him continue, proceeding to count down the minutes. It tore me apart. Now this?

"I know you can make great things come. I know you can do what I do, if not better. It's up to you and your potential and how you use it." The beeps of his monitors seemed to be slowing, I grabbed his hand and looked him in the eyes.

"You're a fool, but you're my favorite fool." He smiled brightly, coughed a bit more, and then closed his eyes. His breathing began to settle down. He sighed one last breath.

"I love you. I love Gavin. You can do this." With that, his monitor flatlined and within seconds nurses swarmed me. I only got a moment to blink before I could see the smile on his face before I was pulled out of the room.

Only tears could fall, but no words to speak.