An innocent childhood friend that hides his intensely possessive tendencies and his equally unstable older brother with no sense of boundaries.
Dominic and Jake Truven are both troubled teens that have their sights set on their family friend, Nicol...
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--Jacob--
Today had been a bloody shit day.
Meetings and discussions the entire day took a toll on a person's body and mind. But at the same time, we covered a lot today. The finalisations for the attack on the northeast borders of Barcelona were achieved with the help of Castilla Crew and several other Spanish gangs. They all intend to see the fall of the monopoly that Don Montez had created on the cannabis supply lines.
The next few weeks are about to get hectic.
With a ragged sigh, I trudged into our dorm room and brushed a hand through my hair. Fuck, I'm tired. And, hungry too for that matter. I gently kicked the door shut behind me and was immediately drawn to the single kitchen light in the darkness of the entire space. What the hell? I quirked an eyebrow as I approached, shrugging off my blazer in the process. Slumped over the counter was a familiar figure who had her head buried in a mess of her own hair and arms. Well, I could only guess how the day went for her.
"Oi, girly," I beckoned loudly whilst tossing my blazer on the counter. Beside it was a container with traces of brown crumbs - the brownies Nicki had made a few days back if I'm not mistaken. Did she eat the whole thing? Once Nicki remained motionless, I prodded her, arousing an injured groan in response. This was rare. Has she ever gotten this depressed before? "What happened? You were meant to go on a little date with your friends, right?" I mentioned amidst my saunter over to the fridge to see what was available. There were no leftovers, shit. I'll have to whip up something simple for tonight. "Girly, you there?" I pestered further as her silence persisted. Nicki only cuddled further into the cradle of her arms and once I started to hear a few muffled sniffles, I sighed. Yep, today probably went as bad as I had expected for her. I pulled out some chicken breast from the freezer and set it down on the counter. Did she get stood up? Or maybe they embarrassed her or something? "Look, whatever it was, you'll get over it, girly. Trust me, in a few years once you're out of this hellhole, it won't even matter," I encouraged drably as I loaded the pieces of meat onto a chopping board.
Whilst her optimism towards everything was entertaining, it was also susceptible to naivety. She must have been sheltered a lot as a child but given her who her father was, I wouldn't be surprised. Well, it didn't matter since everyone had to suffer a little to mature. Even if I had warned her to be careful this morning, she would've ignored it anyway.
I reached for the cleaver in one of the drawers and gave it a quick rinse under the tap. Glimpses over to her beaten posture twitched my eyebrow in annoyance, though. Whatever, it's none of my concern. She'll get over it.
I began cutting the pieces up. Each strike was loud and prominent, yet, all I could hear were the pathetic, little whimpers she was desperately trying to snuff out. My eyebrow was beginning to spasm with irritation now. Oh, God, you have got to be kidding me. Why was this even pissing me off so much anyways? With a final hit against the chopping board, I left the cleaver stuck there to confront her moping figure. Since when did I start giving a shit about this? Was it because I knew this was coming sooner or later? Or was it just because it felt weird to see her so down about something like this? Who knows?
