His Dark Obsession

Chapter 2: Him.

Dirty little fucker.

Watching this sad excuse of a man slap this poor girl about was really grinding my gears. I have to stay sharp, stay focused. I can't let my anger get the best of me, not yet anyway. 

The floors of this dirty trap house are stained with every possible substance I can think of. The five men are all sat around their leader, holding machetes and pistols staring daggers into my eyes. The only light coming in is from the two lamps either side of the room and the small TV in the background. One of his other disciples stands behind me, blocking the door out of here; I've already scanned two more exit points within a minute of stepping foot in here. 

The leader of these cunts pushes the girl down on the floor once he's done laying punches into her, and she scurries away like a frightened little mouse. 

"What the fuck do you want?", he scowls at me, his thick Liverpool accent giving me more of a reason to want to slice his throat.

"Your men were in our streets. You know the rules about stealing business", I stare into his eyes as I speak. I didn't want to get dragged into this shit, but my dad is the leader of this guys rival gang, and instead of getting off his fat ass and sorting this himself, he made his son come and do it. Pussy.

He scoffs and lets out a sadistic laugh as he takes a few steps closer to me, "And who the fuck are you? You're not John. Are you his new little toy boy? Always knew that fucker was bent", he smirks, his men laughing. Ugly cunt.

"You don't need to know who I am, you just need to keep your little slaves in line", I glare at him. His thick beard moves with his words, the scar in his eyebrow adding to his cold stare. He was smaller than me, I'd be surprised to meet anyone taller than me, but still he stared up at me with no hesitation.

His teeth grit, "If John's got a fucking problem, he can come and tell me himself. I'm not dealing with his little bitches", he spat on the floor in front of me. I clench my jaw, trying to withhold my anger. As much as I want to take all of these fuckers out, doing that would only set our side up with way more enemies than we need.

"Until then, keep your men in check", I growl, then turn to face the man standing behind me in front of the door. Well I say face, look down at. He stares at me for a few seconds, can nearly see my reflection in the bald cunts head, then he moves aside. Without a word, I walk out the room and out the house.

I pull out a cigarette from my pocket, placing it between my lips and lighting it. Taking a puff, my phone then rings. Can't get one fucking second of peace.

"What?", I say into the phone as I start walking down the street. The sunset is about the only beautiful thing I've seen today, the orange glow on the horizon giving the clouds a perfect definition. Nature seems to be the only thing I find peace in anymore.

"The Conroy brothers, they're in Manchester", my good friend Matt says. Matt is about the only person I trust, he's always been there when I need him and never hesitates to help me out. We met when he came to my dad wanting a job. God knows why he wanted to set himself up in this world, I've always told him off for it, but he insists it's the only easy way to bring in enough money to look after his sick mum. I respect him for it, but I still nag him for choosing this path.

I take another draw from my cigarette, "Looks like we're going to Manchester. Pack your bags", I say as I cross the road to my car parked up then hang up. The Conroy brothers, dickheads. They're known for being rapists, woman beaters, murderers, you name it. Thing is, they stole from us, about a kilo of cocaine. Tonight, we try and figure out where the fuck it is, and if they've sold it, they'll fucking pay.

I start my car, and quickly write out a text to the group chat.

Me: Conroy's in Manc. Heading out tonight, meet at Matt's.