We like 'em young

1) Kill me already

                                                                                      Drew

The roar of the trains reaches me from below. 

I desire more sleep, yet Jay does not permit it. I swing my legs over the thin mattress and stare at the wall for a moment or two. I pull out a cig (cigarette); I light it with my broken lighter. I've had this old thing forever; I just can't throw it away. Like Duncan told me, "Bro, keep it; it's special."

I roll my eyes at the thought. Stupid Duncan, I don't know where he even is. 

Shit.

I probably left him at the fight club. Again. 

I throw my cigarette and stomp the flame out. I notice my clothes folded for me. 

How drunk was I? I never fold my clothes.

With a sigh, I put them on regardless. This is probably my favorite suit. It's a black dress shirt with black trousers. I slip into my black dress shoes and run a hand through my fluffy black hair. Once I walk out of my tiny room; I see Duncan, Reeve, and Jay awaiting me. 

Bloody hell. 

They all stop talking and some put their whiskey glass down. 

"What?" I ask, scared for the answer. I know I was drunk, but what did I do; these looks are scary.

Jay, my older brother, speaks up. "Last night."

"Yeah? I know I was drunk, what happened?" 

Reeve, one of my best friends, fakes a cough. "You killed someone at the fight club." 

Shit. Double Shit. 

"Oh. I'll handle it." 

Jay sighs, "We already did. you almost busted us to the cops, Drew." 

I sigh this time. I really don't want to be lectured. I know during my age he'd do the same thing. Doesn't matter though, I'm heir to the mob now. I have to step it up. Fix myself, he says nowadays. I used to think that was funny. Not anymore. 

"Sorry. I just was drunk, okay? I didn't mean to, Jay." 

Jay sighs and Duncan speaks up, "Bro, I'm your best friend. But you got to chill, man." 

I roll my eyes, just because I haven't been perfect like they want, doesn't mean I'm crazy. 

Bloody hypocrites, is what they are. 

"Yeah, sorry." 

Jay sighs, and says his favorite line, "Fix it." 

I nod and nudge pass Duncan and Reeve. I've known them forever. We've been friends forever. Their fathers are in me and Jay's mob. Or I should say, father's mob. They joined the mob when they were about 10. Lucky honestly, I had to join and be trained at 8. We hit off and became best friends. Now we are practically inseparable. They are still in the mob and are ready for me to take over. Ever since Jay said he didn't want to be heir anymore; it's been my job and place for mob boss. I can see why Jay resigned, too much pressure. Pressure I don't need. I already have enough. But never less, here I am. Stuck as heir. Father says that he wants Jay back; I'm useless to him. 

Despite my efforts, the scars from him remain.

I take a whiskey glass and pour some bourbon. I take one sip and feel at ease again. Everyone has gone back to their random conversations. I tune them out, I really don't want to talk to anyone right now. Still got the hangover. Everybody knows not to mess with me when I'm hungover. I get cranky. 

I take another sip of my bourbon as Jay approaches me.

He takes my glass and begins to drink it. 

"You're taking a break today. Father wants to see you anyways." 

I sigh, "Fine." 

"Hurry, don't be late."

I already know Jay told him about the accident last night. I mean it's the fight club, someone's bound to die. 

                                                                                      ____________

I approach father's office downstairs. Some of our men surround the area of our mansion. I knock gently on the door only to hear a raspy voice, 

"Come in, Drew." 

I sigh and walk in. I take a seat on a red leather chair near his desk. I'm really not in the mood for him today, 

"Father."

He glares at me with his piercing gaze, "You made a mess, Jay had to pick it up." 

I swallow, "Yes, sir." 

His gaze glares into me, making me shiver. He nods and stands up slowly. I gulp. I know what he's doing. It won't help my pounding headache. 

He hits my cheek with his ringed finger. 

I feel a drizzle of blood run down my cheek. I can feel the leftover sting of the hit. I shake my thoughts away; I cannot be weak. I cannot be weak, ever. 

"It won't happen again, Father." 

"Good. Leave." 

I rush out of the room holding my burning cheek. It hurts, but I've had worse. He was honestly being kind today. I sit on one of the leather couches and light a cig. I take one puff and feel less tense. I smoke to calm myself. I can't show any emotion. Ever. 

Like father says, 

"Don't show weakness. You look vulnerable. Never show me nor anyone that side." 

"Yes, sir."

"Good." 

I flinch as he hits me again, hard. I let tears spill over, I was stupid at 8.

"What did I just say, boy!" 

I sniffle and become stiff. He hits me again and I try to keep composure. Doesn't work. This goes on for hours. My whole face and body were bruised and bloody. 

I push the memory away and take another puff. I relax into the cold leather of the couch and sigh. I've thought about leaving, but he'll find me. There's no esapce. I just except my fate and grow up. 

I'm not weak.

I must grow up. Become the leader he wishes. The leader everyone wishes. 

I wonder want it's like to have a normal family. A family that has dinner together. A family that doesn't make you kill and gamble.

But I can only imagine so little. 

__________________________________

Hope you like this! 

Please vote, mwah! 

993 words too! Woah! 

Also, I wanted to warn y'all that this has trigger warnings. So, please feel free not to read if you get triggered easily.