Behind The Gun | H.S (ON HOLD)

3: Basement.

- Quinn

"Down in the basement dark things happen..."

I effortlessly mess around with the edge of the withering page, of the book that has been read many times before. The evidence present as I turn each page; coffee spills, water marks and the occasional tear at the corner of the pages. I hum a random turn to fill the silence; not being able to focus on the page in front of me. I rest the book in my lap and take in my surroundings.

Not even two days ago, I had my real first encounter of what it's truly like being a gang leader's daughter. I was threatened and now I know it will only be the first of many. Somewhere in the trees ahead of me sat someone, waiting for me to take my photo. To use it to scare me but what really get me terrified was the creepy note. 

Princess, you are just so photogenic, I couldn't resist.

More than anything they sound like a crazy stalker. I've seen those crime shows and for those victims the terror never ended. Since then the rules that I have always hated; I don't so much anymore. I'm rather grateful that there is always someone with me now.

But since then my father has only gone and increased security, inside and outside of the house. He's also been acting differently; more caring, more loving. I'm starting to see a side to him that I haven't seen for so long.

Rather spending our Sundays apart he knocked on my door this morning asking if I'd like to spend the day together. On his only day off he normally spends it alone in the West wing or out with friends. Sunday is the only day where our house is more like home as there are; little to no guards, only a couple staff and no members at all. Following uncharacteristic actions, Foster decided to visit an old friend. For as long as I can remember he would always spend the day in bed, telling me he's catching up on lost sleep due to my father.

I see nothing wrong with him not being here but he's always a good person to have around when things between my father and I start to get awkward.

"Don't you like the book, dear?" My father asks, snapping me out of my own thoughts. He too is sat with a book in hand but his attention is firmly on the page in front of him.

"No. I can't seem to really get into it." I answer. After only reading the first page I lost interest, but being so drawn into his book he failed to realise that till now.

"How about a film then?" He suggests, tearing his eyes away from the book. I nod, placing my book down on the table and standing up. He folds the edge of the page, closing it before he too stands up. The likely hood that he will re-open the book during the film is high as he prefers books to films while I am the opposite.

I begin walking over to the doors, eager to go inside and wrap myself up in a blanket. My father follows close behind but we are stopped when someone walks through the doors in front of us.

I've never seen him before and quickly turn to my father to make sure he isn't someone I should be running from. Since Friday I have been uneasy even seeing someone I'm not familiar with in the house. I'm just waiting for their next move and I don't know what to expect which is terrifying.

Straight away my father nods understanding what I'm trying to ask, without saying it. Feeling calmer I take a step back so I am standing next to my father. I eye up the man in front of me trying to suss out who he is; he's unlike the others as he's young and not crazy built. He has blonde hair and blue eyes that make him stand out along with navy skinny jeans and a plain, black tee.

All men around here sport suits seven days a week and look nothing less of a gentleman. My father built a culture within the gang that members aren't criminals but business men. They may act like businessmen most of the time but are never afraid to get their hands dirty; sometimes I rather believe that they enjoy it and that reminds me how dangerous they really are.