The Beneveti Mafia

35

Fun fact I took this picture myself on an airplane!

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I used to tell myself that I wasn't afraid of death, not until I came face to face with it. Death is so permanent, so absolute and that there isn't any reversing it. Everything you said and everything you've done can't be fixed or recreated. You'll never be able to see your friends again or family again, and that is what scares me.

It's incredibly terrifying to know that you'll never be able to drive down an open road with the windows rolled down ever again. You'll never be able to go see another movie with friends, or have children.

Death may be scary but it's also a symbol. A symbol that indicates my job here is done and it's time to rest.

Thank god my job isn't done cause this bitch isn't resting yet.

Brynn's P.O.V.

I can feel a pounding in my head and my stomach feels so nauseous.

That's it I'm never drinking again.

I blink a few times trying to get my eyes to adjust but they can't, it's too dark for me to see 5 inches in front of my face.

I feel my surroundings and it begins to feel familiar to me. I'm in the sports car I drove here.

I feel around to get the door open and I stubble out to my feet. The room is still pitch black but I can vaguely make objects out in the darkness.

My hands stick out in front of my body to make sure I don't run into anything. My hands jiggle a large hard object and it feels like a garage door. I try to pick it up with all my might but I can only get it half way up before my arms give out. I feel so weak from my nasty hang over.

I scramble to find something to keep the garage door open so I can shimmy under it. I turn around when my shin makes contact with a short hard object.

"Ow! Mother fucker!" I hold my throbbing shin and try to subside the burning anger I have for that object right now.

The metal object slides over the concrete floor near the garage door. I pick up the garage door just enough and slide the heavy object under the door with my leg that isn't injured.

The garage door is opened just enough for me to slide my body under and escape this weird prison.

The air feels a little chilly on my exposed shoulders and the moon is higher in the sky than I remembered. I'm guessing it's early in the morning and someone just dumped my body in the car to get my drunk ass out of the way.

Fucker. I bet it was Mauro.

I begin to trudge my way up to the main doors to pick a fight with whoever left me to die of alcohol poisoning.

My weak knees pull me up the stairs to the giant double doors of the mansion.

My head is beyond spinning and I almost feel like throwing up, but I won't. I have a very small fear of throwing up.

I push open the doors to see the party still going on but there isn't nearly as many people as before. I scan around trying to find the people I came with but I can't find anyone until I lay eyes on a walking trash can.

"Look who decided to get off her knees and finally show up." The nasally voice makes my head throb more.

I point at my self and turn around looking to see if she is actually talking to me.

"Hold up, you're talking to ME about being on my knees?" I am completely dumbfounded. I'm in the presence of the biggest hoe I've met and I'm the one being accused of being on my knees.