Leader Of The Mafia {h.s}

013

Bree Tyler

"One...Two...Three..." I panted, as I jogged around the basement, trying to be as quiet as possible.

I always counted while running, for some odd and twisted reason it made my breathing more stabilized and my running more agile.

"One...Two...Three..." I panted once more, running in laps around the basement again.

I couldn't sleep, I tried but it was impossible. I just needed something to do, my mind full of evil thoughts and my brain scattered.

Running was a source of comfort for me, the journal as well.

Running. I was very good at it, I was on the school track team for a few years, before I got kicked off because, my grades turned to complete shit.

Grades. I used to be very smart, straight A's and a prude. But I started hanging out with the wrong crowd and wrong people, and got into drinking habits only at sixteen years old. It's not something I'm proud of, I'm angry at myself for it. I worked so hard for good grades and putting all my time and energy into track, just for it all to get thrown down the drain. But it's all my fault, I deserved it. I deserved it all, I learned from my mistakes, kinda.

I would go to house parties every night and drink until I would be throwing up on the bathroom floor, or if I didn't make it to the bathroom in time; I would throw up on a person rather than the dirty floors. I became active in sex and my mother was very angry at me since I was only sixteen. Later on she forgave me and she still feels sorry for me. She shouldn't though.

I still struggle with drinking habits a lot, the night I went to the club with Harry I definitely drank more than I should have, I even tried to go get more.

It felt like a withdrawal.

I honestly only asked to go to the club with Harry just to get a few shots of some sort of alcohol in my system. Was it desperate? Yes. Do I regret it? Also yes.

I panted once more as I finished another lap around the basement. I couldn't help but think about my best friend, Charlie.

Charlie was my only true friend that stayed with me throughout my bad habits. She helped me overcome them actually. She told me that I'm throwing my life away and for what? To drink and have sex every night? Drink until I'm vomiting on the floor? She was right, I got put into rehab for being an alcoholic and I became better each and everyday. I still feel guilty for how much I heavily drank at the club, but, I can't change the past, I can only make sure not to do it again in the future. But I can't promise anything.

I grunted after finishing yet another lap around the basement, my feet started to ache and blister. I was so out of shape from when I used to be active and running in track after school on Monday's, Tuesday's, and Thursday's. Wow, I still know my schedule after about six years.

I must really miss it.

I sat down, my heart beating fast at the amount of oxogen that has been taken away from my lungs to pant.

I physically couldn't run anymore, I was exhausted and tired, and out of shape.

My hair tied up in a high ponytail swiped across my shoulder, as I took a swig from the water cup I brought down to the basement from the kitchen.

I left Harrys room after I tried falling asleep after I yelled at him. I'm surprised he didn't full on rage at me and kill me on the spot for even daring to raise my voice at him.

But no, he sat there and burned his poor skin with a lit cigarette tip, he then just fell asleep. But I didn't, I just couldn't.

So, I did the only thing that gave me a slight sort of comfort, well besides journaling; I love journaling. Running was my go to if I had nothing to journal about, or I was just feeling sad and needed to push weight off of my limp and tired shoulders.

Every time I felt even the slightest bit of stress, it was like this huge rock was piled on my shoulders, and every time I did something too reduce my stress, it was like parts of the rock chipped and broke off, making the rock weigh less. My shoulders weighing less too-

"What's going on?" I heard a groggy voice that interrupted my thoughts, I looked up to see Harry; he looked tired and he was pinching the bridge of his nose, messy chestnut colored hair atop his head.

"Oh." I whispered sleeplessly "uhm, just journaling..." I lied.

"No you weren't, journaling isn't that loud." He muttered, he didn't fall for my lie, "don't lie too me, Breelyn."

"Okay fine, I was running." I crossed my arms, I was kind of embarrassed.

"Thats weird." He groaned.

"Yeah? Well, it helps me calm down." I shrugged, taking another sip of water from the glass.

"What on earth would you need to calm down about?" He crossed his arms.

"Why do you need to know? Or want to know for that matter?" I stuck my nose in the air.

"Well I-" he stuttered "never mind, I don't know why I asked, I really don't care."

He shook his head, shutting the basement door, leaving me in the underground basement alone, cold, and still stuck in my thoughts.

I wanted to walk out of the basement to take a shower, my sweaty hair and sticky skin making me feel uncomfortable. But I physically couldn't, my legs fell weak and my head spun in the back of my mind.

I leaned my head against the black painted wall, closing my eyes, now I could sleep; I could finally rest. I could finally push all my negative thoughts away, well, most of them.

But there was just that one thought withering in the air that I couldn't get out of my head.

Maybe me and Harry aren't as different as we both think.

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A/N- definitely the shortest chapter I have EVER written, I just wanted to get this chapter out so y'all could know that Bree; isn't perfect and she always has had a hard life. So, just bare that in mind that she has struggles too.