𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅 𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 | 𝐃𝐂 𝐈𝐈

Something of yours

"𝙒𝙚𝙡𝙡, 𝙄'𝙢 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪

𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙤 𝙄 𝙨𝙚𝙚? 𝙄'𝙢 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝"

~

MIXTAPE 007

*Season Of The Witch- Lana Del Rey

*Monitor- Siouxsie and the Banshees

*Antmusic- Adam & The Ants

~

MARCUS

Alessia wasn't the same person anymore, and I know... I know that people react to grief in different ways. But she was a mess. She was also incredibly stubborn, showcased as she slapped my hand away from the bottle of vodka I tried to grab from her hand. Her eyes rose vindictively to me, not leaving mine, as she put the lid between her teeth, cracking it open, lifting her head shooting the metal lid into the air before it fell with a clatter somewhere behind her. The look that said 'I will do whatever the hell I want to do' She took a swig, her eyes closing at the sharp shoot of spirit at the back of her throat.

"Killing that guy was a bad idea, Alessia. I should have never let you go through with it. Now they know we're here in New York" I stated, running my hands through my out of control curly hair, that was well over due of a wash.

"Most of the things I do are bad ideas" She muttered leaning back on the bed, the alcohol bottle sitting on the bedside table. "But some bad ideas are better than good ones. You just don't figure it out till you actually do it"

I don't know what part of killing a guy was a good idea. But I didn't say anything. With her like this, it was better not to. I watched as she stuck a cigarette between her lips, lifting a lighter to it, before the smoke erupted in volcanic clouds around her. Billy and Petra were down the corridor on the phone to his mother as he checked up on his little brother, and I immediately felt a pang of guilt for getting them wound up in this shit in the first place. Alessia, however was never going to let me forget the guilt. I could see by the way she looked at me. That deep down, she wished she'd never met me. I could also tell by the way Maria's name fell off her lips lathered in poison, that she was pissed at her as well. Maria. A lot had happened in the the last three months. We'd been in LA alone for the first two months, and we'd found each other again. She forgave me, and I couldn't fuck this up. I wouldn't fuck this up again.

"Alessia. Sit down" I spoke to the rhythm of the psychedelic music that would fit into Woodstock like a glove, playing on the radio. The girl in question had stood up and was dancing around the room, out of it. But I knew she wasn't drunk. Not yet. But in that moment, in that shit hole of a room, she couldn't bare to think about anything other than the music, as she swayed from foot to foot, her arms raising above her head, taking a drag from her cigarette every now and then. A sigh of concern more than anything escaped my lips, as I pushed myself out of the chair, slipping through the door, walking over to Billy and Petra.

~

"She didn't even bat an eyelid-" I shook my head, leaning against the wall of cracked blue paint. "She's got a vendetta"

"It's mafia shit dude. Okay? You don't question it. She knows it's not right. She's not a psychopath." Billy replied putting the phone back on the holster, as the three of us stood in the hallway, a few people giving us wary looks once in awhile, with the rest not caring who the hell we were. When I killed Rory, I thought about it every second of every day. His manic eyes still haunt me sometimes. Then there were the hillbillies inside that god damn house. I don't think I was ever going to get over that night.