Gio
My fist smashes through the drywall of my bedroom too easily. I squeeze my fingers into a fist, relishing the pain. At least I’m feeling something. First time in months. Although the self-disgust doesn’t exactly answer my question for why the f**k I’m living.
Cristo.
She doesn’t trust me. I guess she f*****g shouldn’t. Because I want to kill that stronzo boss of hers. The one who’s done something disgusting to her.
And I know it’s something I’d wanna kill him for, because she wouldn’t tell me.
And f**k if my need to fix this for her, to exact a little justice, isn’t all-consuming. I smash my fist through the wall again. Two more times.
My knuckles bleed a little.
So she doesn’t want me to hurt the guy. That makes me a bad person, I guess.
Cazzo!
In my book, you don’t stand aro
