Say You Hate Me

a job

This girl was going to be the death of me.

My new roommate has already angered me to the breaking point.

From her soft blonde hair to those dancing sage green eyes. My blood blisters in my veins at every aspect of her. Her attitude, her vanilla scent, her thick thighs and skinny waist, her velvety voice.

Despite her undeniable appeal, the more logical part of me acknowledged that she was just another slutty bitch trying to engross herself in my friend group.

But it bewilders me how she actually managed to succeed in her quest to join when many before her, have tried and failed.

She would just be another girl with a nice looks, cunning intentions and zero personality. She might be able to trick Ryder, Nick and Aaron but I wouldn't fall for it.

So, I did what I do best, I told her exactly what I thought about her and smoked a cigarette.

The way her twinkling jade eyes dimmed at my harsh words and she bit her soft lips, I knew I had hit a nerve.

Since then she's basically hated my guts, matching my glares and avoiding me at all cost. It was almost amusing watching her wake up methodically at 6am just to refrain from an awkward morning with me.

I'm glad she hated me, I hated her too, at least the feeling was mutual. It did spark my interest that she was the only girl who didn't obsess over me.

I had girls at their knees for me, constant calls and desperate messages but her? No, she was much more intriguing. I'd never met someone with such a nerve, one little word from her pretty mouth and I wanted to bury a bullet in her. She had this ability to light a raging fire in the pit of my stomach and there was nothing I could do about it.

She was different, another thing I disliked about her.

Yet, there was a darker part of me clawing at my organs. An overwhelming desire and lust running through my veins. The part that wanted nothing other than to fuck the attitude out of her. To corrupt her. To claim her so all the animalistic boys would stop ogling at her.

But at the same time, I wanted to be five million miles away from her intoxicating presence on the other side of the damn planet.

The roof was the only alone place I had now. Since she had infiltrated my room with her perfumes and nail polish and makeup.

I've always gone to the roof to smoke, ever since I was 15 and my older brother, Matteo, was shot doing business and I became the future don of the Italian mafia.

I'll never forget the way my blood ran cold and any warm feelings morphed into icicles. I could no longer ignore the dirty business and blood on my family's hands, it would be on my hands now.

It's been a few years since that godawful moment.

I can finally look at myself in the mirror without that gnawing feeling of shame for the blood I've spilled and disgust at who I'd become staining the way I see myself.

...

I fucking hate mornings. Especially mornings when I have a job. Papà is persistent on preparing and training me for becoming don, late night drug busts, early morning murders, fighting training 24/7 and always having a gun on me.

Being completely honest, my father always set me off on ventures like these. Ever since I was old enough to walk. Yet at the time, I was the second son - the replaceable one. Matteo was papà's pride and joy. His future. His favourite.

When I was 7, my father beat me to a bloody pulp so that Matteo could practise sutures on my wounds. I don't think I'll ever forget the agonising pain searing through every part of my body. At age 8, Matteo and I were abandoned in the midst of a forest with the purpose to survive for a month. Matteo was rescued two weeks in, whilst I remained for the following 3 weeks. My father later admitted that he got swept up in protecting his eldest son that he just forgot me. At age 10, I learnt how to use a gun. It was a flimsy glock 22. For every shot I missed, it was another thrash of the belt against my back. At 12, I was trained in combat. It appeased my father to practise my training against Matteo. My young skills were no match for my elder brother's, so he constantly triumphed. At 14, I stood up to my father for the first time. I was in a coma for the following 3 months after the most vicious pounding of my life and soon after I was sent to boarding school.

I never played catch with my papà. I never went fishing with him.

I don't think I've ever even had a proper conversation with him.

I scoff at the memory, my blood boiling in my veins.

Elsie was passed out, flung across the bed and lips parted with a hushed snore. One leg bent and one straight so I got a perfect view of her peachy ass in those tiny shorts. Not to mention, her lacy pink bra was peaking out of the flimsy tank top.

Fucking hell.

Eventually, it dawns on me what a creep I look like, glaring daggers at her gentle sleeping body so I slip away into the darkness.

Morning motorcycle rides like this were oddly peaceful, the icy breeze, the empty streets. I liked the solidarity.

I arrived at the dark warehouse in under thirty minutes. Parking my motorcycle, I greet Enzo, a buff soldier who has always been my father's right hand man. He's tolerable, I suppose. Mainly because he hardly speaks which I appreciate. The large doors bang open as I take in the sight in front of me. A large, porky man tied to the wall, one scintillating light directed at him and tears streaming down his red cheeks. Filthy. He was a rapist, a pedophile and a waste of space, I would just kill him - but he has information on a large sex trafficking scheme i planned on obliterating. He was useful for now.

"You filthy shit," i grunt coldly, his bloodshot eyes dart up towards me as his hands begin to tremor in fear, "Tell me — do you enjoy raping little girls?"

he disgusts me. Those girls didn't deserve the shit he did to them, and he would pay in due time. He shakes his head vigorously, denying what I already know is truth. I pull out my sharpest knife, letting him glance at it before pricking my finger gently, ruby red blood oozing out of the cut and dripping down my finger. He gulps. Pussy.

"I don't like liars." I grit out, it takes every ounce of self control to not put a bullet through every living, breathing part of his body. He looks up at me, sniffing his nose aggressively.

"I'm sorry - I - I didn't mean to Mr Lorenzo - You - You have to forgive me!" He begs, his eyes looking at me pleadingly.

Shame, I wasn't known in the underworld for being forgiving.

"Tell me everything you know about Igor's sex trafficking in the next second or i will cut apart your filthy dick and feed it to you. Do you understand me?" I hiss darkly, gently tracing my other finger against the blood flowing down my finger.

He nods hesitantly, "if I tell you - will you spare my life?"

His whole body is shaking with fear.

"Yes." I mutter giving him a deadly look and putting my knife back into a pocket.

Lies. I always was a good liar.

It worked. He gave me a deep sigh before divulging all the details and locations I needed to destroy this whole scheme. He was a weak piece of shit, giving up information that easy. I nod mindlessly, absorbing all the information he told me. It was all being recorded in case I forget something anyways. His voice gave me a migraine, i wanted him to shut up. maybe I could slit his throat and destroy his voice box?

Eventually he finished blurting out everything I needed to know.

"So are we okay now? Can I go?" He stutters, looking down shamefully. I shake my head sinisterly. He really thought I'd let him go that easily? No fucking way.

...

I got back at 5am, throwing myself into the shower to wash away his blood. It got a little messy but nothing a cold shower couldn't handle. Ten minutes later I was clean and dry and collapsed onto the bed. I would have forty minutes of sleep before Elsie's unsubtle morning routine would wake me up. The girl was already ruining my morning and she wasn't even awake.

——————————————————————————————————-———————————————

AUTHORS NOTE!!!

IT WAS SO WIERD AND DIFFERENT WRITING HIS PERSPECTIVE BUT ITS GOOD.

ITS AB DAMN TIME THOUGH

WE ARE FINALLY GETTING A SENSE OF WHO GRAYSON IS

alsooo I am going to do more Grayson's pov but like later on, otherwise it wont make that much sense!!

PLS VOTE

XOXOXO