Bad Boy Addict

❁ 04. HOTTIE ❁

We're close to my neighborhood. The homes and streets are starting to look more familiar. Once we get near enough to my home, I want him to stop a block away from my house so that I can walk the difference. I don't want my brother to see Xavion's car. Ayaan lost his mind at my irresponsibly for misplacing my phone. Seeing me step out of a guy's car won't sit well with him.

       "They still have my phone," I say to Xavion. "I know it sounds like a shot in the dark, but it would be great if you could get it back to me. I have a shitty job at a coffee shop and there's no way I'll be able to buy a new phone anytime soon."

      "I can see what I can do, but I'm not making any promises." He shrugs and then his own cell phone begins to buzz. After lowering the radio, he answers it, speaking rapidly to the person on the other end. The call is short. He hangs up and tosses his phone down, cursing.

      "What's wrong?"

       "We were spotted when we left," he reveals. "We didn't see him, but one of Christopher's men told Pablo that he saw you get into my car." He rams his palm to the steering wheel, slamming it. "Fuck, this is not good."

      "W...what are they going to do to you?"

       He holds his breath, raking his fingers through his hair. "I'm not entirely sure what they'll do. I was just told to come see him as soon as possible."

      "That's not a good sign."

      "You think? I was hoping he was inviting me over for tea and biscuits," he snarled sarcastically. After a beat, he exhales. "Sorry, I don't mean to take this out on you. I just don't know what to do from here."

       "Don't go," I whisper. "I'm guessing showing up to this meeting will only lead to your death."

       "I know that's certainty not going to happen." He shakes his head, refusing the idea. "The top boss wouldn't write off an ok like that."

      "I've seen enough mob movies to tell me that everyone within the mob is exposable and are expendable."

      "No, you don't understand," he scoffs, "that can't happen because the top boss is like a grandfather to me. We're practically family." He clears his throat. "We were almost family. He took me under his wing early on and I even call him grandfather—out of respect because of all he's taught me."

      He makes a sharp turn, leading us to my street. "You can slow down over at that blue house."

      "But it says—"

      "Please, just stop over at that house. Don't go past it," I instruct him and he complies, coming to a gradual stop where I've told him to. I unbuckle my seatbelt. "If you find my phone, how should you contact me?"

      "I'll get a hold of you."

      "How?"

       He grins. "I'll find my way."

       "I can leave my work address."

        "It's not needed." Putting two fingers at his temple, he salutes at me. "It was a pleasure meeting. Unfortunately, we didn't meet in the most ideal or conventional way, but I'm not complaining. Have a nice rest of your night."

       "Likewise," I snicker, throwing open the door and closing it. I secure my backpack on and start my walk to my house. I don't know what screaming match I'll be strolling myself into, but I hope I can leave to my room unscathed.

       I need a hot bath and a steaming cup of tea to ease my nerves. My knees wobble with each step, consumed by the weight of the day. The second I get privacy will be the moment the true horrors will be awakened. I've been fighting back tears for so long. The sound of the door locking will be my cue to breakdown in seclusion.

        That is if I don't get to strangling Khalid first.

❁❁❁

I win the fight with Ayaan easily, mostly because he's knocked out in the living room with Cooper. His spotted nose wiggles, snuggling up closer to Ayaan with the blue tent of the TV washing over both of them. I snatch the remote out from beside him and turn it off, sneaking my way up the stairs. I check Khalid's room before going to my own. To my surprise, he's not inside. I'll have to postpone beating him up for another night.

       Entering the bathroom, I strip from my dirty clothes and throw them all into the laundry basket, set before the shower. My muscles ache with each move, particularly my back from all the kicks I've received in the last few hours. 

       The warm water releases some tension, but not enough. I hold on to the handlebar, right above the soap ledge, and inhale through my nose. I turn the knob, cranking up the temperature. The pain subsides for a second as my eyes shut and I whisper a pray for peace. I get lost in my mind to run from my own disparity. The memories of my father that resurfaced before still bothers me, lingering on the cuffs of my conscious thoughts. I want to let them go, release them into the sky like balloons, but they remain isolated in the air above my head, taunting me with their presence and reminding me of the atrocities of my youth. As much as I want to, I can't escape my past. I must bath in it, sink my skin into the blood I've spilled today and brand the name killer into my flesh. I outline the words with my nail on to the back of my hand, feeling a sob coming over me as I do so.

       I snatch the bar of soup, scrubbing violently at my hands, but nothing can erase the murder I committed. I swore that I wouldn't do it again. That I wouldn't be like my father, but I must've been lying to myself all these years. When the time comes, and my life is on the line, self-preservation is the only thing I think of.

        I may fight it, but I am father's daughter.

       The scariest part of isn't the clarify and sense of tranquility I begin to feel once admitting this, but the thoughts that come after. Deep down, I realize that the strongest emotion isn't remorse, as it should be. The rush of it leaves a craving sensation through my veins. This event has evoked the old me, the version of me I've tried so desperately to shove away. The enjoyment I feel is too much for comfort.

      When you get your phone back, you must never speak to this boy ever again. The advice I give myself towards Xavion is harsh, but all too true. I don't want to see who I become if I indulge in playing with fire. My father taught me what can happen to those who dance in the flames for too long.

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a/n: please vote and comment :)

song mentioned in this chapter: HOTTIE by BROCKHAMPTON.

❝Wish my thoughts was telepathic but instead I'm always babbling.❞