"Ruin the world?"
"I mean yeah, we could do that."
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When Faith - a 21 year old detective - finds herself wrapped up in one of the most life threatening cases in New York, the last thing she expects to do is take in 15 year old Alyona - th...
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THEY DON'T BEAT me, nor do they feed me. It's a pretty neutral kidnapping. I'm luckier than most. Minus the actual kidnapping part.
Falling for a blonde Russian girl got me many places. Out of the closet, at one with myself - and also in a white room, left with a black chair, and guns pointed at me every passing second.
I hate that I'm salty about it. That I let myself blame Aly. I shouldn't, it's not her fault her life is like this. It's pitying if anything. I just wish love was a choice, and that my heart hadn't picked her. If it hadn't, I wouldn't be terrified for my life and the memory of me.
It really sucks this is how I'm going to die. Here when my future is bright.
I'm smart. So incredibly smart that it was once something I hid from embarrassment and those I sat with. Now that I think back on my life, I realise I should have owned that. Owned that instead of the school for only a fraction of my life.
I could get into college easy. Even without my last name, they'd take a look at my grades and instantly want me. The Montgomery title would only become a bonus to them after they already chose me.
I would study business. A Bachelor Of Business to be more specific. Then, I'd open a bar in New York, and work so hard it became the most frequented one in the state. I'd hire misfits and people to give second chances - I'd make a family for those who didn't have one.
My father would berate me. I wouldn't care less.
Instead though, I'm going to die. In some basement with white walls. How splendid.
"Chin up." A gun is pressed to my chin, lifting my head. "It will all be over soon. I'm sure you'll be grateful we're quick with our murders."
"Yes," I say, "I am so very grateful you've kidnapped me and bargained with my life. How ever shall I repay you? Perhaps my father will pay you for your mercy? Oh. That's right. He wouldn't. He'd kill you."
The man who once held my face, lets it drop instantly, a muscle pulling in my neck from the weight.
"Stop acting tough," The man shakes his head, "We all know your father would be grateful his only child is dead. You're a disappointment."
"Because of what's between my legs or something else?" I tilt my head.
The man sneers, "Because of your whore behaviour."
I startle at the word and how rough it comes off of his tongue. But then I retract, hold my composure and grin. "Don't tell me you read magazines about me? Perhaps you get your nails done and back massaged whilst you do it."
A slap to my face. Hard.
You can offend a man with anything most of the time. His status, looks, well being. Of course he'll be bad, but he'll be narcissistic enough to only mock and make fun of you in return. When you question their masculinity, is when they get emotional.
