fifteen
987 Words
Marco
RAGE BUBBLES UP INSIDE me, my fist clenching and unclenching. This kinda thing, this s**t, brings back my very prevalent violent streak.
I start imagining sticking a blade into his brain and watch his skull fill up with blood. Or slicing off appendages randomly until he bleeds out.
I start thinking where I put my cleaning supplies—tarp, bleach, chemicals that make blood disappear. Then I'd have to cut of his finger pads and toe lads, preferably while he's alive and crying out in pain.
Perhaps I will burn part of him, and the rest of him will be buried ten feet under.
Mafia style.
I haven't decided if I want him to alive while I'm burying him though, it all depends on my mood at the time.
Hence why people know not to f**k with me and what's mine. I'm the type of mother fucker who just starts cutting off s**t.
And who is going to touch me? Not the cops. I fund those bitches, most them have stations and police cars because of me. Even they don't try f**k with me, because they knew who I was and I can do.
If you piss me off enough, you f*****g disappear. Like genie.
Poof! Where'd he go?
So I'm trying to understand why this Devin felt that he had free reign. When I got her that job, I told them that she didn't need any special treatment, let her work her way up.
I also told them that she is under my protection, and anything happen to her, I was going to rain hell on their f*****g heads.
They must not have taken me seriously.
Another thing that drives me to murder.
THE NEXT DAY, Tuesday, I took a detour to McKay Design Firm.
Ignoring the receptionist, I walked right to the elevator, pressing the button for the tenth floor.
I ignore the receptionist on this floor as well, brushing past her desk am into his office.
"Who the hell are you?"
Not answering that, I shut and lock the door behind me.
"What the f**k—"
"Sta'Zitto, adesso." I'm so pissed, I forgot English.
(Shut up, now.)
Sighing, I close my eyes, willing my knowledge of English to come back.
"Do you go around raping your employees, Devin McKay?" His eyes flit left to right nervously.
"I–I don't now what you're talking about. Get out before I call security."
That get a laugh from me, until I realize he's...serious.
"Oh, idiota. Così stupido.'
"I don't know what you're saying—"
Laughter drained out of my system.
"Then listen very f*****g closely. You touched her under my protection. That gives you several options."
I lift him by the scruff of his neck, depositing him in the chair behind his desk, while at sit in his chair.
"You can quit, disappear from Chicago and live," Messing around with his desk, of a picture of a cat,
"Or, you can stick around and I make you disappear. That's the more painful option."
Looking up at him, I smirk. "Usually ends in death, and I'm very skilled at death."
"The only other option you have is to kill yourself, but that causes too much trouble for me."
I hold up his picture frame with a grin.
"Cute cat." My grin drops. "I'd kill him just to spite you. Now take your cat, and get the f**k out of Chicago."
The p***y sits there blinking at me, looking like he's about to cry.
"Why are you not moving," I glance at the invisible person next to me, "Why is he not moving?"
"Do you need incentive?" I produce my favorite pistol. We've been through so much together.
With a shriek he is gone.
"I will hunt him down later,"
"FATINA, SERA, I'm home!" I call out when I walk through the door, not seeing the girls.
"Angel? Seraphina?"
Huh. That's not like them to be so quiet. Usually when I get home, Sera crawls to me and uses my pants to stand up, babbling about, what I assume, is her day.
And even Angel usually comes to greet me when I get home.
So...
Frowning, I walk through the apartment, looking for them, checking every room. I find them Sera napping in her room, and Angel in hers.
Which is weird, this time Sera is most active, so naturally Angel would be up as well.
Leaning over her crib, I brush her hair out of her face, smiling as she turns the other way with a pout.
I pick her up, putting her head on my shoulder, walking back to Angel's room.
"Fatina mia, wake up." I whisper, stroking her face with the back of my hand. She purred rubbing her cheek against my hand.
"Perhaps I should've called you kitty instead of fairy," I whisper in amusement.
SERA WOKE UP A COUPLE hours later, at around five. Google doesn't really tell me enough about why my little principessa is so sleepy.
So I called Ms. Faustina.
She was over in a second.
"Tato mio, you finally call me!" Ms. Faustina comes in loud and Italian as always.
"Nonna, quiet. Sera is sleeping."
"Why did you call me?"
"My little Princess won't wake up and I don't know why."
"Where is her Mamma?"
"Also sleep."
"I think she is sick," pressing her hand to Sera's forehead, she shakes her head.
"She has a fever. Wake up her mother and take her to the doctor."
IT WAS HELL TO WAKE Angel up but I did it. Took a while...
So we went to an after hours pediatrician, and he said that Sera had a 24 hour virus, that she just had to ride out.
Here we are at home, and Angel is moping...
I don't know. So I have to take care of Sera, who when she's not sleeping, is screaming, refusing food, and throwing up.
Yay Marco...!
- Writer
