The 4th CRIME

Chapter 5

"Who wants to help me hand out these notes on Othello?" Mr Kim asked as he held up a stack of papers. When he asked, hands shot up quickly from most of the girls. His eyes looked over the class but it was like he wasn't paying attention to anyone except me. 

I knew what was going to come but I hope I'm wrong. He smiled when my eyes met his, daring him to say my name, "Natalya, can you help with these?" He asked me and I narrowed my eyes at him in response, "come on now, don't be shy. It's just a couple of worksheets." 

I wanted to tell him no, or carry on sitting in my chair but I needed to get him off my back. Clearly, when I say no he wants to do more and just doesn't get the hint that I like to keep to myself and sit by myself and not be bothered. 

I stood up from my table and walked to the front of the class and respectfully took the papers from his hands. He towered over me and smiled when I took the papers from him. I levelled my eyes with his before turning on my heels and began to walk along the organized rows of the class. 

Many of the students met my eyes but quickly looked away when I stared right back at them. I walked back to my seat, suppressing my anger and irritation. 

I hate this teacher. 

I was fuming in my mind the entire period that I didn't hear anything he said about the protagonist and antagonist in the play. The last thing I cared about was Shakespeare and his plays and most definitely Mr Kim who stood in the front of the class dictating everything to us. 

"Can I please have a word with you, Natalya," he called out when the bell rang and I was making my way to the door, way ahead of everyone. I stopped in my tracks, ground my teeth together as I turned on my heels and pulled my bag with me back into the class. 

"Yes." 

"Are you alright, Natalya? Are you going through some things?" He asked me, sounding concerned and tilted his head, "I ask this because you don't pay attention in my class. Why is that?" 

"Because I already know what you're teaching, I'm fine." 

"Well, listen kiddo, I'm using my time to come in here and teach you. The least you can do is pay attention. Respect my efforts and I'll respect you. Until you learn to respect what I do and my subject, you're going to be my class assistant, got it?" 

I straightened my back as I narrowed my eyes at him, "don't you ever call me kiddo again," I said, not caring about him and his feelings. The next time he called me kiddo, he'll be having a conversation with the barrel of my gun or a conversation with my hand wrapped around his neck. 

I didn't wait to hear his response as I took my bag and began to walk to the door, "just make sure you're in my class five minutes early for the period," he said after me and my hand formed tightly into a fist as I walked out of that class and made my way to my car outside. 

~~~

"His name is Chang-woo Kim," I explained to my father as I walked into the kitchen and he was leaning against the fridge, smoking a joint as he looked at me with interested eyes, "and I want him dead." 

He chuckled as he shook his head at me and then handed me the joint but I declined, because I was trying to break out of the habit of smoking weed. 

"I'm assuming that's your English teacher?" He asked me as he tilted his head, a smirk on his face. 

I nodded in response and he shook his head, "I can't do that, my angel, your mum told me that I can't kill any of your teachers anymore." 

I groaned when I heard that response as I rolled my eyes and walked to the tap as I got myself tap water and turned facing my father again. 

I looked over his facial features and unlike my mum who didn’t look a day over 25, my father had more matured and hardened features. He looked evil- because he was. He had dark and thick eyebrows and his beard covered a majority of his face. His eyes pierced through mine like they knew my darkest secrets but because he was my dad, I wasn’t afraid of him. To the world out there, he was a monster but to me he was my hero. 

My father is a drug lord, a kingpin, a businessman- he has many "occupations". Conversations between him and I could range from talking about flowers to talking about killing people like it was the most normal thing in the world. In which it was- in our world that is. 

He always had on designer custom made shoes and I've never seen him repeat a tie, or even a belt. He's always particular about what he wears and how he wears it. It's a wonder how he stays so clean when he's spending most of his time with the triplets while my mother spends most of her time with Victoria. 

The reason why he's always with the triplets is because he's grooming, preparing and training them as he did with all of us. He began when we're young, so that by the time we're older, we're professionals who know every kind of drug there is and we're professionals who can kill without blinking or having doubts. 

He's taught us to never think twice when pointing the gun at someone. He's taught us that you kill whoever comes in between family and tries to separate you. He's taught us that drugs will lead us to more power. I honestly don't know how much more powerful the Hutcherson's can get. 

There’s never a shortage of money, never a shortage of being invited to the best parties and meeting the most "powerful" men in the world. My father supplied all of those presidents and those celebrities that everyone looked up to with drugs. He only cared about one thing- us. And everyone else? It was to hell with them. 

"He made me his class assistant," I told him as I raised an eyebrow, tempting him. Even though I knew that he won't do anything my mum says he mustn't do. 

There's a reason that my mother is the most dangerous person I know and that's because she controls my father. My father does everything to please her because he's in love with her and she's his world. She's the King of this household and he shamelessly lets her take charge of most things that involve us. 

I mean, sure he's not exactly your typical dad. He was the one who gave me my first joint, he taught me how to roll one and make one. He allowed me to have my first line of cocaine and I've tasted about every drug my father sells. 

As I've said, he's not exactly the best dad of the year but he's the best to me. 

"What the f**k is that?" He asked me, laying his head back on the electronic fridge that dinged when he placed his head against it. 

"He wants me to help him around the class, hand out worksheets-" 

"What the f**k," he snapped, giving me the reaction I wanted before he laughed, clearly unable to handle himself. 

"Please, daddy, get rid of this man," I complained, as I put my glass back in the sink and I heard footsteps that I knew belonged to my brother. 

"You've just got a few months at school, I'll take care of him then, if you want," he suggested as he turned his head towards the entrance of the kitchen where Czar appeared.

Czar was dressed like I was, we both wore full black. Black jeans, black shirts and the only thing that set us apart is our choice of shoes. I wore a pair of heels and he wore sneakers as he looked at my father and nodded at him. 

"Is she complaining about that Chinese English teacher of hers?" Czar asked my father as they both chuckled and he lifted a joint to his lips. 

"Technically he's Korean," my father said, mimicking the way I described him whenever he called him Chinese. 

"I'm glad you all are very much amused by my situation," I commented as I rolled my eyes, looking down at the Blancpain watch on my wrist and then looking at my brother, "who's driving?" 

Even though Czar is 4 years younger than I am and is younger than the legal driving age, my mum was the one who had gotten him a custom made Lamborghini as his birthday gift. 

Unlike me, he has only 1 car and I have 6 and a motorcycle. 

"If your mother asks, I never saw you guys leave," my father said as he looked at Czar who was taking his car keys, jiggling them in his hands, "enjoy." 

My father picked up a glass of whiskey that was sitting on the counter, bringing it to his lips as he nodded at us and walked away without another word. 

Czar and I had a drop off to make for my father because it was one of his regular customers. Who also happened to be the headmaster of our school and the cousin of a well-known wealthy corrupt politician in Russia. 

It was always the same amount of drugs because he loved himself some Heroin and Krokodil, which is the worst yet most famous drug in Russia. Its effects are so severe that it causes skin decaying. Well, our headmaster and his "friends" are addicted to it and order it every week. 

The drop is always RUB 5 million, every week and it's just one briefcase. He keeps pushing it though, and this time he's asked for two briefcases. One briefcase is just never enough. 

I walked behind Czar as we walked out of the front doors and towards his matte black Lamborghini where there was only one of it in the entire world. I could say it was expensive, but to my mother's pockets it literally was like her buying a slab of chocolate, nothing but a small treat for her favourite boy. 

The drop offs are simple, I get to his door, enter and we swap briefcases, his will contain the money and mine will have the drugs, of course. 

He used to seem ashamed, but when you get addicted to this stuff, all you want is more and you just stop caring if it's being given to you by one of your students. 

It's always confidential though, it doesn't mean we don't have proof of the transaction in case of future challenges we may face, but other than that, he keeps his mouth shut, keeps buying the product, and pays: and no word gets out about his true dark side. 

~~~