My Gangster Girl and Me.

Chapter 9

Liam's P.O.V.

"I do not think you should do this," I muttered.

"I do not care about what you think, Liam," she hissed back.

"You really should not do that," I muttered.

She dropped the knife that she had been holding and huffed, as she turned around to stare at me.

"What's your fucking deal?" she looked really frustrated with me, "you do not want to help me with this, so the least you can do is stop annoying me. Will you at least shut up and let me do this?"

I have her a blank look, about half a minute passed by, the both of us just staring at each other.

"You shouldn't do it," I told her.

She let her fists land on the countertop with a loud smack, she let out a loud sigh, very frustrated.

"It is stupid," I spoke up again, trying to reason with her impeccable glare.

"You really think that I care?" she said, speaking through clenched teeth, "that was all that you could come up with?"

I gulped. I really could not come up with anything else.

"Er . . . you . . . what if, what if you stab yourself?" I muttered. I did not even sound convincing to my own ears, not to mention the fact that I had tried to use this line of reasoning already.

"How many times do I have to assure you that I will not?" she questioned, her expression was drifting towards boredom now, I could tell that she was trying to keep her annoyance in check. I knew that she was not going to give in, she was too adamant, too stubborn. And also, we did not have any other choice really.

"I can drive you to a hospital," I offered for the thousandth time, and, for the thousandth time again, she shook her head no.

"You can stand here, and torture the both of us, or you can go watch the television, and leave me the fuck alone," she waved me off, turning around in the chair, dismissing my presence completely.

This girl, she would really drive me insane. I huffed at her back, trying to come up with another convincing argument. She cursed under her breath, the 'why me' was loud and clear, very intentional, too, I am certain. She grabbed the bottle of vodka that she had next to her and took a long swig out of it.

"You are drunk out of your mind, Alex," I told her when she set the bottle on the counter again.

"Maybe I fucking am, but that isn't any of your business," she muttered, still turned around. I could see the expression on her face, but I did not need to, I was sure that she was now more determined than ever to do what she had set out to, even just to spite me. She took the knife in her knife, turning to the side again, adjusting herself so that she could look at herself in the mirror that I had set on the counter to her right. I opened my mouth to protest again, she saw that, and gave me a sharp look in the reflection. I shut up.

This girl was insane, really. She might be a fucking gangster, but who the fuck attempts to take a fucking bullet out of their own shoulder?

She couldn't even twist far enough to reach the wound, not to mention the fact that the bottle of vodka was more than half empty now, that mixed with the amount of blood that she had lost, that she was losing still, I was pretty sure that she had close to no coordination or any form of control over her own senses.

I am too much of a fucking whimp to do it myself.

She prepared herself to get on with this ridiculous job, and I prepared myself to interrupt her, again.