My Severe Brother

ch 2: Peter

Peter's pov

I'm Peter Ace Carnell, just a 16-year-old trying to navigate this messed-up world. I'm not big on talking about myself, but the writer insists, so here goes. School isn't my thing – who likes it anyway? It's a daily twist with no end, but the streets, that's where I thrive. Making money is my skill set: selling drugs, boosting cars, and throwing fists in street boxing matches.

Boxing is my passion and my way to pocket some cash. I may not win them all, but I hold my own. I learned the ropes from a friend four years my senior, a buddy more like a brother. Then there's programming, my first love. Hacking, to be precise. I dove into it at the ripe age of seven, starting with hacking my teacher's Facebook. Now, it's not just a hobby; it's a profession.

My life's no walk in the park. I don't feel like going into it but again the writer wants you to know. 

If you really want to know, I live in California with my incredible mother. She's been my everything, my sole provider since my lousy childhood. Cancer struck her when I was nine, costing her job and pushing me to grow up fast. So, I dabbled in online work, careful not to expose my hacking identity, a skill that pays the bills. I'm working my way through school, aiming to make her proud.

But life throws curveballs. Blackstone Mafia entered my world, exploiting the vulnerable and poor, forcing kids into dirty work. 

So how did they enter my world?

One day a guy visited, mom. They quarreled and she kicked him out of the house. At that time, I didn't know what made mom react that way he just asked her to let me work instead of her. I thought that I found my hit. I ran after him and accepted the work asking him to keep it between us.

From that day, I worked for the Blackstone mafia as a drug dealer and a thief. I stole cars, jewelry, money and sold drugs. 

Was that mom's work? Well, I can't judge her, it gives some good green bucks.

There I got to know my friends, Rodger who taught me to fight, Adrian and Loli. Rodger died a few months ago.

The Blackstone is a horrible place. The men there were severe and heartless. There, you can hear crying, yelling, whimpering and the sound of the belt meeting someone's skin. On the other hand, you can hear laughing, moaning, glasses meeting in cheers, girls dancing and singing and even fucked. Nothing can change the fact that it's a scary place.

They punish us brutally if we don't meet their demands. I've faced their wrath, but not as harshly as others. Still, the belt – a constant reminder of fear, so much so that I can't bring myself to wear one.

That's all! 

That day™

Fast forward to that day. After school, I headed to the mafia hideout, a refuge for street kids seeking missions and a place to sleep, despite the abuse.

One of the leaders called me. I went to his office. " Y-Yes Master."

"I have a new mission for you, killing this person. His name is Marco Carnell." He showed me his picture

"Killing? I'm not a killer. I didn't kill anyone before." I blinked twice.

"Okay, fine."

Ohh, it was so simple!

"Do you get the money?"

"Y-Yes, h-here you are." I pulled the money from my pocket and gave it to him.

He looked at them and said,"Bend over the couch."

"What did I do?" I questioned, innocence masking the upcoming pain.