Valentin and Rojo | ✓

one (2nd draft)

Adriana

I jolted up out of bed. The sounds of bullets ricocheting in my home had startled me awake. Turning my throbbing head, I glanced at my alarm clock. Who's here at three in the morning? My blood went cold and my heart stopped when I heard footsteps approaching my unlocked bedroom door. Acting quick, I jumped away from the comfort of my bed and raced towards the door, locking it.

"Baby, open the door." The masculine, rough voice was unfamiliar. He carried a strong Italian accent, foreign to my ears. I didn't know what to do. I had no significant hiding places, everything was opened to the world. I chose to hide under my bed, deciding it was my best bet. After hearing an exasperated, frustrated sigh coming from the other side of the door, I heard a loud thud. He was trying to push my door in. My trembling hand was clamped over my mouth. Grunt after grunt after grunt was the only sound my ears could pick up. Until, he finally broke in.

I saw his perfectly polished shoes walk into my bedroom, treading in a painfully slow matter. "Baby, where are you hiding?" He said in the creepiest singsong voice, knocking over every possession inside my room. He ransacked my whole room. I heard my books falling from the bookshelf, my plant pots shattering on the wood flooring, and my tears quietly splashing. He hummed to the tune of a song I wasn't familiar with, then stopped. I moved my head side to side, trying to catch a glimpse of his feet.

"Please don't kill me!" I screamed when his hands wrapped themselves around my ankles and pulled me from under the bed. My heart dropped to the floor and I blinked several times, my vision blurry from the tears I had been shedding. A breathy, deep chuckle came from his chapped lips as he picked me up and threw me onto the bed. I tried to kick him, but it was fruitless.

"Don't worry. I'm not going to kill you. We're just going to have lots and lots of fun," He softly said while his hands roamed my whole body. Unfortunately, the oversized shirt I was wearing had ridden up, exposing the lower half of my body. As quickly as my hands went, I tugged the shirt down, but he still saw. He smirked and pulled out his handgun. I felt the cold metal tip of it touch my stomach and shivers traveled up my spine. He lifted the thin piece of article up with the tip of his gun. I whimpered and stiffened when his rough, calloused fingers grasped my breasts over my shirt. I tried to push myself away, but he wouldn't have it. "I can't wait to lick every single inch of you." His hot breath hit the nape of my neck and I cringed.

Mistakingly, he placed his gun down while his
hands roamed my legs.

And for a split second, I saw that his guard was down. He had his eyes closed, the gun was resting near the side of my head and I didn't even hesitate. I bent my leg and kicked him as hard as I could in the chest. It knocked all of the air out of him and he stumbled back, confused, but only for a second. I quickly grabbed the gun and placed my index finger on the trigger. He smirked, most likely thinking that I didn't have the guts to kill him in cold blood. I took a deep breath and shot him. I turned my head to the side right as the bullet pierced his skull, protecting my face from the bloodshed. His body fell face first onto the floor and I dropped the gun onto the floor.

I didn't feel remorse, I didn't feel guilt, I didn't feel anything. I thought I would. I had never taken the life of another human being. I never thought I would. I knew I did it in self-defense, it was him or me. But I found myself not concerned with my own wellbeing, but with my parents' and my older brothers'. Tiptoeing around the dead body in my room, I quietly opened my bedroom door. I stepped outside and heard the shouts of a thick Spanish accented man.

My father.

I peeked over the wall, watching as my father had a gun pressed into a random man's temple. "You fucked with the wrong family," my father said. He flipped the gun in his hand, pistol-whipping the man that kneeled before him. He groaned as blood oozed from the new gash on his forehead. "You have balls, I'll give you that," he said as he circled around the man on the floor. "Showing up in the middle of the night, taking out three of my guards, but me? You're talking to the king of New York," a maniacal chuckle leaving the same lips that had told me 'I love you' a few hours ago. "Gonna take a lot more than fucking guns to ever kill me. You royally fucked up and now... it's time to pay the price."