My Gangster Girl and Me.

Chapter 22

Alex's P.O.V.

Can guilt kill?

Or maybe it's just all the supplementary stuff that comes with it, anger, hate, the frustration.

I wanted to go to the end of the world and bury myself there, far away, so far away that no one would bother to look, bother to care. Guilt cut through my being.

I am supposed to be a bad person, right? I am a gangster, mafia. I am supposed to, someday, take over, supposed to be the boss. That meant that I was supposed to be the most nefarious one, the most ruthless, the worst one. I had killed people, I could accept that, I had killed people, I had left some out to die, I had even tortured a couple, made people suffer for my own means. I had done all of that in my fifteen years of life, and still, I had hardly ever felt it, the guilt, my conscience drumming down at me, as I did right then, as I ran my thumb over the tiny rag doll charm that was now hanging from my wrist.

I watched as the bracelet glittered in the dim light, standing out in contrast against my skin.

It felt like someone was eating through my insides.

Was it really possible to die because of guilt?

It felt like I was really close.

"Thank you," I said, eyes fixed on the little rag doll, trying to forget how his fingers on my skin had sent shards of electricity down my spine.

The gleam in his eyes was absolutely unbearable. I told myself that I was being ridiculous, that this was necessary. I wasn't sure if I lying to myself. Was I really in full control of the situation? Was I really making the right decisions? I knew that I wasn't being completely honest with myself, and that was the worst part probably, more hurtful than the implications in Liam's tone when he had said 'me', as if he knew, as if he had seen right through me.

Innocent.

"Hey, Alex!" someone called out to me from across the room, pulling me out of my thoughts.

When I turned around, the first thing that caught my eye was the huge cake that sat in the middle of the room. It wasn't a bright pink one, like the one that Steph had been blabbering about, and I could not help but sigh in relief. It was a normal one, huge, but not fucking ugly. It seemed to match the decorations in the room, it seemed like they had planned a theme for this thing, not that I gave too many fucks about that.

"Time for the cake!" Steph announced.

I sighed again.

I did not want to break her heart, that poor girl. She was the driving force behind all of this, and I would do my best to fake it, for her sake, but of course, the sooner I could get this done with, the sooner Liam would be out of danger.

I leaned in my seat until I could reach out to him. Another wave of electricity ran through me when I met his hand there, already waiting for me. My heart raced. When I looked back, his eyes were waiting too, waiting already, there already. Why did he understand me like that, why did he make me feel like that? He squeezed my hand, a small smile playing on his face, reassuring, so beautiful. He seemed to be the only thing that had kept me calm the whole evening, our hands, entwined together.

Another stab of guilt.

I was putting his life at risk. I was literally holding his hand and walking him into the middle of the fucking war zone. How could I ever be able to earn his trust? How could I ever let myself really be with him?

We walked to the middle of the hall then, holding hands like that, as people gathered around us. My anxiety was about to hit the roof. They were closing in around us, the people, well, since the cake was supposed to be at the center, but that also meant that I would probably have to kill my way through people to get out, if things went down.