Detrimental [H.S.]

𝟷𝟺 - ɢɪғᴛs

I noticed when we started to drive, Toria went into a laying position on the reclined seat, followed by faint snores. Her brown, lightly curled hair was a bit frizzy as they were scattered all over. She was sleeping, deeply.

I could hear faint snores as I kept my eyes on the road. She looked so little, but she acted so strong. I knew she was holding up this tough act to give her some kind of security of hope that she'll get through this, but she was just broken and lost inside.

The thing was, I didn't feel bad for chasing after her when I placed a tracker on her dress, or giving her the life or death test just hours ago. I didn't feel anything when she started hysterically balling her hazel eyes out. I guess I didn't feel anything anymore when it came to those types of things.

My mom left my dad and I the second she had me. She left us for some man whore that promised to spoil her. I never focused on her growing up. I had my dad. He never showed an ounce of love towards me. I was trained strictly by him. He wanted me to be just like him in the mafia. I didn't want to be in it though.

I lied to Toria when I said I didn't really know him. I knew exactly who he was. He was some stuck up, arrogant, son of a bitch, who thought about him and only him.

He wanted to impress the mafia by training his son to be just like him, if not better. That didn't change the fact that his death kind of ruined me.

There was another death that initiated my psycho personality, but I never talked about her. She was never to be talked about, and I wouldn't even talk about her now. Still, Desmond, my father, had an affect on me.

No one took care of me except him. I guess you could call it daddy issues, but no matter how much he ruined me, I had something towards him. I came from training in the gym one night, and I found him lying on the bed, his throat slit.

He didn't die of an overdose, but I didn't want to tell Toria because she would beg me to tell her more about it. It was a cold-blooded murder.

After he died, I spent months trying to figure who killed him. Louis was always there to help me. We had a special relationship, I admit, and we hooked up once, but I called it off quickly. It was a distraction. I didn't know how he felt, but I was more focused on finding the murderer.

No matter how far I searched, I couldn't find any clue. That's when I turned it all off. My feelings. I became this emotionless monster, and I accepted it. I created the whole SF Killers things to distract my boredom for this world, and I guess it kinda worked.

I realized my thoughts were getting me distracted when I heard Niall speak up. He was the only Irish one out of all of us. I met him at a bar when I was getting wasted and we kicked it off from there.

"Hey mate, you're swerving a bit. Mind focusing on the road?" He was holding on his seatbelt a little too tight which made me let out a slight laugh.