*WRITING AND EDITING*
Warning ⚠️ this book contains adult themes and violence. Read at your own risk.
~ Hardin Scott Fan-Fiction ~
Hardin Scott is the ruthless son of a well known London mobster. With his teeth bore and his guard up will he be able...
(Song- Light Me Up by Ingrid Michaelson) ———— Hardin's POV
Time has done damage we never could.
Maybe not physical damage but the mental challenge is definitely there. Lurking and waiting.
I have seen so many things over the course of these past years, I have been so many places. Lost so many people.
All because of my fucking father.
Back when I was a child my father was nothing but a drunken idiot. He couldn't protect me nor my mother. My mother.. she was a fool back then. So blind to his game and his words.
That was all proven to her one night. Just how much of a monster Ken actually is. She learnt the hard way..
I replay the memory in my head every time I try to sleep. It is the source of all my nightmares. The roots that night have planted in my mind are far too deep for me to ever forget. To ever get away from... so I resort to this.
Drug money, mafia meetings, money laundering and mindless killing- I wouldn't say it is mindless. My chest aches with heavy guilt every time I recall what I do to people. It isn't right, I know that much. But for Ken to stay as far away from my mother as possible it's something I need to do..
I'm never given the chance to be soft. I'm always bloody knuckles and punishing splinters of glass.
I want people to be afraid of hurting me.
I frantically toss and turn in my bed sheets, the fabric tangling around my legs before I kick them off completely. Small beads of cold sweat gather on my forehead as I sit up from my bed. My head is fucking pounding.
My breath shakes as I push myself up from the bed and walk towards the window where I open it and let in some cool air.
Another nightmare. Fucking fantastic.
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I stand beneath the warm droplets of water, my back is pressed firmly against the freezing cold tiles. How have I let it come to this? Is it even slightly worth it to continue with this charade? To continue to hate everything that I am? And what I have came to be.
I feel my shoulders begin to slump, my head rolls back until it harshly hits the wall behind me. The tension that possesses my body soon washes away. My wounds sting as my bloodied knuckles strain beneath the water, although the pain is my only reminder that I am not numb. That this is indeed my shitty reality and that I am trying to live through it as best as I possibly can.
I am lost. Completely and utterly broken. Everyone left me to be swallowed by an endless abyss a long time ago and I fear that I cannot be saved.
It's hard to sell dreams to someone who has only ever walked through nightmares. That's why I never believe anyone who is convinced that they can help me.
