The Daughter of the Gangleader •UNDER EDITION•

Bianca Martin

It took Sam two weeks to win the bet. I, obviously, went down first. Duke lost when giving in to a hookup with Sophia, River when shredding Chad to pieces, and Avery when in frustration dragged a couple hands through his hair. Sam didn't even seem bothered by the challenge, and when Duke asked her why, she lectured him about his piglike, sexist belief that it would be tough on her not to wear makeup. Also, she made sure to remind him she's perfect without it. I gave her TedTalk a ten out of ten, especially that last part. So did River.

River stayed at Sam's place and they offered me a space too, but I wasn't comfortable enough to meet the whole family just yet. River's different. When it comes to mothers, especially Sam's, he has talent. I suck with parents in general, but with Sam's mother specifically, I have an undeniable fear as the slut who seduced her husband because she wanted to get her oldest daughter killed. Avery didn't even recommend staying at his house despite his dad's and Chloe's frequent absence due to the case created that, mindblowingly, if that was a word, held up in court as solidly as his patience with me. He knew, even though we haven't spoken a word about it, that I don't wanna be anywhere near my house. We stayed at the little wooden cabin after a fifteen minute long argument over whether he should go back to his house or stay with me. He won. Duke currently sleeps in his bed since he's still not legally allowed back at his own house, and his father is God knows where, so he took the time to break into my room through the window and steal a few of my clothes when Morgan wasn't home.

"I've been thinking," River says while we're all eating. "We need a new place."

"Why did you exhaust your brain with all that thinking?" I mock him, swallowing down the anxiety that popped up as soon as I stopped crying twenty four seven.

There's still a heavy lump inside me apart from the anxiety that shakes every bone in my body as if they were prison bars holding it trapped which, partly, is true. Two weeks is nothing, but since I've had a lot of practice on how to freeze out unnecessary emotions, it's been enough not to spend my days in a dark corner alone. It's less difficult during the day since I can much easier keep myself busy and my brain is distracted by the people around me, but every time I'm supposed to go to sleep, the voices, the memories and the blood haunts me. Once I actually manage to fall asleep, the nightmares take their turn. Up until a few days ago I hadn't had more than seven hours of sleep added together since Max's death, but Avery forced sleeping pills down my throat when the physical symptoms of my caffeine levels got too hard to ignore.

"That's cute. What I was gonna say was, we need a place, and so does Duke, right?" Duke nods, spaghetti in his mouth. "Exactly, so why don't we get a place together? Cheaper, safer and better."

"That's the smartest thing I've heard in my entire fucking life," Duke says, too eager to swallow down the stuff in his mouth. I simply agree.

"But your dad," Sam ruins the dream. I get ready to speak up, but when Duke does, I realize who the question was actually meant for.