Leaving Scars ››› n.h. au

[1] To Die For

TO DIE FOR

She is dressed to kill

And he is to die for

She knows he would kill

Just to hold her on the dance floor

saturday, november ninth, two thousand and thirteen, two thirty-three am 

"Livezey, you can't leave." I froze with my hand on the doorknob. With my jacket halfway on and a pair of heels hooked on my fingers, it would've been too hard to act innocent. I turned around and looked my father straight in the face, my expression straining to stay neutral.

"And why is that?" I cocked my head, letting my pale blonde hair tickle my neck as it fell to one side. My father sighed, his hand moving up to rub the side of his head- Something he seemed to a lot, more recently, when talking to me.

"It's late, which means it'll be dangerous." I felt my temper rising, but managed to keep my face clear of any agitation. Instead I smiled sweetly at him, my hand moving to prop itself up on the curve of my hip. We just stared at each other for a moment, in the silence of a sleeping house. Then, I let my grin grow, as if I didn't at all want to scream at him.

"I'm not sixteen and scared anymore, Dad." Some of my aggravation slipped out as I continued.

"In fact, I'm not seventeen anymore either- Or eighteen." I tapped my finger against my chin, faking a thoughtful look. My father clenched his jaw, clearly seeing through my innocent facade.

"I don't care how old you are, Livezey. I know you like going into the Newham bar, because you like the thrill. But the Newham gang has always hated us- And has always wanted something as leverage." I rolled my eyes now, because I honestly couldn't take another second of pretending.

"So you think I can't handle myself? That I haven't trained at all?" When my father didn't respond, I barked out a laugh. I wanted to do so much more, but I only waved a hand at him and turned the doorknob with the other.

"I'm going out- And since I'm nineteen- not sixteen- you can't really tell me not to." I let the door blow open, giving him a cold look before walking out. He might've called something after me, but I didn't try to hear him.

Harley was already waiting on the corner, fixing her red lipstick in the side mirror. I slid into the passenger seat, huffing slightly, and she turned to give me a once-over.

"Did your dad catch you?" I nodded just barely and she made a sympathetic noise in the back of her throat. Being my closest friend, she knew that I hated fighting with him, even when he was the one in the wrong. My father and I used to be extremely close- But all of that was before.

Before I turned sixteen, and was admitted as a full-fledged gang member of Greenwich. Before I learned how to operate a gun, or kill a man with three simple moves, or started to curse and drink and party.

Though, truly, what did he expect? I was always going to grow up, and he's the fucking alpha of the gang, the leader. How could his kids not become part of the gang- If we hadn't, we would only put ourselves in danger.

Still. You're always going to be his little girl. I frowned almost instantly, after the thought came up. The idea both made me sick and had tears springing up in my eyes.

"You okay?" I blinked and pushed the thoughts of my father out of my head. Nodding to Harley, she pulled out of the parking spot, and sped down the road.

"Is Quinn coming with us?" The side of Harley's mouth twitched, the telltale sign of bad news.

"She's meeting us there- She's with Jared again." I made an audible groan, just to prove to Harley that it was going to bother me, and that I would complain. She laughed just slightly, though she hated him just as much as I did.