TWENTY-ONE

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TWENTY-ONE

Reign I Gusev

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Reign I Gusev.

A well disciplined businessman knows when to use his power, when to disguise it, when to intensify it if needed. I come from a long line of determined money hungry men who sought to violence first questions after.

It was never about the money or the private jets, it's about the sacrifice and the will to take extreme precautions to keep your respect. This business was built off sacrifice and blood. I was strictly taught how to shoot a gun at seven, killed my first man at eight — many years later the empire fell into my lap.

Rolan Gusev, a traditional Russian somewhat quiet but observant. I respect my father, in his eyes the only thing that concerns him are his creations. It's men like that you constantly watch your back for.

I saw something no child my age then should witness. I was supposed to be asleep, most night's I would sneak in the kitchen for a glass of chocolate milk.

It gave me warmth I felt lost in it until I heard voices come from behind me. I quickly hid in the pantry. I didn't close it all the way so it wouldn't make a noise, but I was able to see through the gap. I continued to drink my milk not thinking much of it.

     My father was with two other security, they dragged a familiar man into the backyard. I proceeded to open the door so I could run back to bed.

     It was as if my shoulder was tugged— at this vulnerable age intrigued is what a child is. I took my sights off the stairs but on the window for the back yard where my father was.

I remember trying not to get caught, I bent the blinds peaking out then in came all the fear. The familiar man my father would laugh with at my home on his knees begging for mercy, my eyes shot open when his pleads became silenced. Blood splattered onto my father's white shirt as he repeatedly smashed away at the limp body with a hammer.

     He wasn't satisfied enough, he screwed on a silencer on his gun before unloading the entire clip with little to no emotion standing over the bloody corpse.

     I was numb, I could hear the rate of my heart beat I panicked covering my ears. My breathing was unbalanced I thought my heart fell to my stomach. I just saw my father for the first time murder someone close to him. I didn't know the reason, you never ask about what you saw— I was only five.

     The shock felt paralysing, I ignored the urge to cry or scream. I calmly walked back to my room, pulling the covers over my head, unable to stop replaying those graphic events. I hold that night with me forever.

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