The Heart of A Killer.

5.

Chapter 5 |

O R L A N D O | G O N Z A L O ^

I smoked my blunt as my mind trembled to Savay.

Sexy Savay Suarez. Damn.

Can't lie. One of the youngest, baddest in the game.

I'm not just attracted to her looks, but the way she plays ball. I feel bad for the way my father handled things with the Suarez family, all because he was jealous.

That's why he has to die, not only that... but the disrespect to my mother will not be tolerated.

All my life that's what he laid in front of me, is how to disrespect. Instead of showing me how to love and make smiles from my family happen. But all he does is think about his fucking self.

My jaws clenched from just thinking about how the bad outweighs the good memories of the times spent with him. He could give a fuck about family, if money isn't on the table behind it.

A loud knock came to my door as I grew confused because no one knows where I live, not even my family. I grabbed my gun as I looked through the peephole.

I answered it in an irritating tone. "What do you want?"

"Ohhhh. Let's try that again. Go on, go sit back down."

I huffed loudly as I sat down and she closed the door.

She knocked again as I got up, "Yes Savay?"

"Yes, I like that one way better."

I laughed lowly as she smiled.

"How did you find me?"

"I have my connections. Plus, you said if I needed to vent come contact you."

"Contact. As in Text, call."

"Or pop up here so I can feel like the advice your about to give me will be genuine."

"Okay honey, vent." I rolled up another blunt as I looked at her with that look

"Well, of course, I want to I'm about to express my problems."

I nodded laughing as I began to roll.

"Okay, so remember last week when I killed Jessica?"

"Yeah."

"And do you know Beth from the cafe?"

"Short blonde hair, and always got the air maxes on?"

She nodded, "Yeah I do."

"Ok, when I was in there... I saw a picture of Beth with Jessica. I think they were related."

"Ok... where are you getting at with this?"

I focused on the blunt until she didn't say anything, I looked up to see her faced down fiddling with her fingers.

I grabbed her hand. She looked up as I sat her on my lap.

"What are you doing?" She whined

"I'm your therapist, you can talk to me now."

"Therapists don't do appointments like this."

"This the Latina version."

We both shared a laugh as she still played with her fingers.

"What's wrong ma?"

"I'm honestly still debating if I should trust you or not. No offense."

"None took."