The Evening Hunter [#3]

9|the terrible night

Seeing a call from father, the Don, was one of many things I hated. He had many ways to upset me more than how life annoyed me. Still, I answered and his old voice rang in my ears.

“What is this I am hearing?!” He always yelled. A decent conversation with him happened whenever he lay in bed dying, the minute he would gather us to advise us on how to run the empire. But he was so stubborn to die, death was afraid of him.

“Enlighten me,” I said as I took a sip of my drink. The cold drink helped me keep up with great work. I loved it when my brain worked every damn second.

“A stupid blind girl? What kind of shame is this you are bringing to the family?”

He knew. It meant that someone had already fed him. Someone always did it.

“What about her? What shame? How is capturing a lead to my enemies a shame?”

“What can a fucking blind girl do? Are you insane? What got into you?” He cleared his throat. “Okay, tell me, what do you have? Hm? You are busy chasing smoke, you better wake your senses up!”

The grip on my glass tightened. An insult that reminded me that I made a mistake. “Anything else?”

“Focus!” He barked and just then, he coughed. Every part of her body was worn out, I felt sorry for his throat. I pushed the phone away and let him cough because it always took him a while. For what I cared, my business was my business. “Get rid of her and focus! If you don't, the Mexican mafia will make use of this time you are wasting and they will be ahead.”

“I know what I am doing!” I hung up and I was certain that he insulted me before he threw his phone across the room. He loved doing that.

Justin. I knew he had his eyes on me, reporting directly to my father so he could be the favorite son. I never go around kissing people's feet to be on their good side. My business defined me, I knew all the ways to be who I was. And in fact, being on the good side of anyone did not sound safe, it sounded more like a burden. The bad side was much fun.

Placing the glass on the table, I picked the gun on it and examined it. Three bullets were remaining. One could be enough, only one fucking bullet through her head and we would be done. 

I cleared another bottle. Getting up, I felt lighter, but I had settled with only one decision. To get rid of her. 

Even though there were so many ways of getting rid of someone, I could only think of using one bullet, only one.

That's why I went home to accomplish that mission.

I drank too much alcohol than I intended to. It had been a long time since I felt tipsy. When that happens, I never take back my thoughts, I handle things with rage and drink even more to celebrate the achievement.

The anger was contributed by the fact that I was losing to a blind girl. She won. She proved to me in many ways that I made a mistake, and for the second time, I did not find the lead to my enemies.