𝐌𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

5 | My Focus on Growth and Chocolate

TOM

I leant against the side of my car, looking up at the dark night sky which was surprisingly clear given how cloudy and grey it was during the day. Lighting a cigarette and placing it between my lips, I counted a total of about five fucking stars. Seriously, the light pollution in this city makes it near impossible to find them anymore.

I remember there distinctly being more stars in the sky when I was a young lad. Dad would take me out of the house once Mum had put the twins to sleep and he'd prop me up on his shoulders to stargaze before bed. It's funny, I remember Dad telling me that when two people fell in love, a star was born and placed in the sky to watch over them. He told me that the brightest star was him and Mum's star, because they loved each other the most.

As a kid I believed him, I would seek out the brightest star in the sky whenever Dad was out late on mafia jobs. It's dumb to think back on it now, but looking up before bed I would know that he would be safe no matter what, because the star would protect him.

"Make a wish!" I'd scream, pointing up at a shooting star in the sky which was most definitely a plane now that I think about it.

"Tommy, I don't need to make any wishes because all I could ever want in the world is already right here," Dad would smile, holding my legs on either side of his shoulders and walking me back inside.

Why do people make wishes when they see shooting stars? They're just chunks of rock that burst into flames and shoot through the sky. It's basically like a dead fucking star rather than a shooting star. It's not even a fucking star. Stars are gas aren't they? I dunno, I don't fucking care. It's not important.

I finished my cigarette and chuckled to myself, flicking it into the gutter as I thought about whether Y/N and I's star would have been a 'shooting star'; our love that crashed and burned, hurdling into the Earth's atmosphere as it died a gruesome death.

I wiped my shoes on the door at under my feet before inspecting the numeric key pad to unlock the door. I guess she's upped the anti on personal security since leaving me. Of course she has. Fuck. Okay, new plan.

Walking back to the car I unlocked it, leant over the driver seat and opened the glovebox. I took two Adderall pills from the empty chewing gum jar I kept them in and left the car.

Going back to the front door again, I used the base of my car key to crush the two tablets onto my phone screen to create a powder; the same way I did with cocaine. It was surprisingly easy given I had experience, and once I had a semi-fine powder I smiled. I dipped my finger in it and rubbed it against the key pad before rubbing the tiny excess up along my gums for a little high.

Bingo. The powder brushed over the glass perfectly and stuck ever so slightly to where the oily residue of her fingers had been pressing. The numbers were 1, 2, 4, 9 and 0. I just had to figure out the actual configuration of the code. Five numbers were pressed but the code is a six digit code. Okay, so I just need to know which is repeated and tha- Done.

Oh Y/N... You're such a fucking angel. And given the code is the date I moved into Witness Protection last year, you're not over me either. How interesting.

14/09/22

A melodic chime sounded from the keypad and the door allowed me to turn the handle. Opening it slowly I slid my body through the small crack in the door and closed it behind me. I could hear a shower from upstairs and almost sighed in relief. The fact she was showering made this so much easier.

I see a thumbprint scanner to the wall next to the door, I guess that's a second barrier of defence when she leaves the house. Rule number one Darling, just because you're home doesn't mean you can relax on your home security. The door is only one step.

Why didn't I just knock? Fuck. I completely forgot that just being a normal person and knocking on the door was an option. Jesus fucking Christ Tom, why are you always in work mode? Not only have I stalked her, I've broken into her fucking house.

I should leave and just knock in ten minutes. No, wait. Fuck, okay no, we're too far to go back. This adderall addiction is really unhealthy. I can't fucking think straight. I think too fucking much. Eh, it's better than heroin right? Right.

I walk up the narrow stairs and look around the terraced townhouse. It's beautifully designed and decorated, homey but impressive. It's clean, but not entirely clean. Seeing her bedroom at the end of the hall I walk past a dark room with a shit tonne of lights.

Peeking my head in and using my phone as a light, I realise that Y/N's home office is really complex. Why does she need four monitors? Weird. I walk over to a shelf with empty photo frames still with the stock image prints of fake families in them, I guess she hasn't printed anything out for herself yet.

On the desk is a few USB's and a hard drive with a handwritten label stuck to it: Y. Aminov. Whilst I'm here I open the desk drawer to the left and look at a bunch of pens and sticky notes. I also see a chocolate bar, I take it because I'm hungry. Yeah, the Adderall is still affecting me.

Peeling the plastic wrapped back, I take a bite before moving to the second drawer on the right. Similar to the hard drive on top of the desk, I see dozens like it, all with different labels she has written.

They're categorised by what I presume is last name. I run my finger down them and wonder what on earth this new government job could be. She could be working back in psychology again? Are these all her clients files? I mean, if you were working with high profile criminals I guess you'd have to have some pretty hardcore security in your house. My suspicions about last names are correct when I see a hard drive labelled T. Holland.

Aw darling, you really aren't over me are you?

I pick it up and close the drawer softly. It has my name on it, that means I have a right to see what the fuck it's about. That's a rule right? If your name is on it, it's yours?

I hear a clicking sound behind me and take a deep and disappointed breath, turning around to face none other than Y/N in the doorway, pointing a 9mm glock 19 at me equipped with a nice little silencer on the barrel. This was all whilst she was wearing pajamas and had her hair wrapped in a towel turban from getting out of the shower.

"Ah so you've started using guns now darling, nice to see that you've grown," I smile, raising both of my arms above my head, still holding the hard drive.