Making Deals with the Enemy

So much homework and not enough time. The end of the school year is just a week away, and I am drowning in a sea of papers to write and assignments to do. This is my final year at Chicago Academy High School and in order to make my application stick out, I need a GPA of at least 3.88 to get into the best medical school in the U.S., Washington University of Medicine. Though my dad, Enzo Dearing, has been pushing for me to join the family business. Now, this would be a normal person's dream, but for me, it's different. My family is the most well-known mafia in Chicago and that could result in blood on my hands that I don't want. My family has done bad things, but that doesn't make them bad people, obviously. I'm a good kid and I have been all my life and I have amazing grades and I can't throw that all away. I'm smart, and I know that. I want a job where I can and have to apply my knowledge, not just some job where I hurt people that I don't even know. That doesn't require knowledge. For instance, my uncle Seth, who dropped out of high school his junior year, or my great-grandmother, who never even went to school. I want to be different, and I want to apply my knowledge to helping people. I want to be a surgeon when I graduate from Washington University. I've told my father that this is something I'm really passionate about, but he insists it's just a phase and once I'm exposed to the work I would be doing for him, I'd love it. Which is why I'm sitting at the top of a parking garage pointing a sniper into someone's window. The building is pretty large, with white exterior and black trim. It's a nice apartment complex, but I've seen better, god, I have stayed in better. This specific apartment belongs to Samuel Woods, the heir to the Russian mafia. I don't know why my dad is playing such bad cards, but he is and, like most things, I plan to do this correctly. I've been sitting here for an hour, and he isn't home yet. He was supposed to be home 10 minutes ago. Something off. I reached down to my belt and pulled out my radio." Dad, he's not home yet." His normally drained and dense voice came through the radio yelling loudly. " RUN JORDAN! RUN!" I jump up, gathering my belongings fast, but when I tried to run, my legs turned to spaghetti as I fell to the ground. I turned my back, holding the gun up. I saw the silhouette of two different men, one bulkier than the other. My arms went limp, causing me to drop my gun. One knelt down while the other muttered something. The one kneeling down was wearing a mask. The only thing I could see was his piercing blue eyes, as cold as ice. I could practically feel the cool radiating from him. He was wearing an all-black suit and a black ski mask. He looked straight into my eyes. "Hey pretty girl," he says, his voice like velvety smooth chocolate." Yea, she's up." The man turned his head towards the other guy ." Hit her again." The other man mumbled. The one kneeling in front of me pulled a syringe and stabbed it into my neck. " You bit-" As i was finishing my sentence, the wires in my veins began to rework, pulling me into a state of nausea and dizziness. After the spinning stopped, the light in my brain turned off and the world went dark.