Ruthless (18+)

one

Ambrosia Rosario

I scroll through the posts of meme accounts on Instagram as I take occasional sips of my hot chocolate, the sweet taste of it rolling over my taste buds ever so satisfyingly.

As I'm lifting my cup up once more, a man dressed in a black suit slides into the chair in front of me.

He looks like he's in his early twenties; my guess would be twenty two, maybe twenty three.

He has tattoos covering both of his hands, dark brown eyes and hair, plump pink lips and a jawline sharp enough to cut my bitchy attitude.

In short, he's very attractive and I would take him to bed any day.

"I'm Roman." He introduces himself, putting his large, tattooed hand forward for me to shake.

I give him a smile and put my small but tough hand into his, giving it a firm shake.

"Ambrosia." I answer.

"That's a really pretty name." The man compliments.

"Thank you." I chuckle, starting to feel a little awkward.

"I'm sorry, not to be rude but do I know you from somewhere?" I as as politely as I can.

To be completely honest, I have no idea why I'm being nice.

I should be asking him "who the fuck are you?" but I'm not, there's just something about him, that tells me he's not to be fucked with, that he's just as dangerous as me.

I'm an absolute bitch, no shame about it.

If I don't like you, I will either ruin or take your life.

I mean, what did you expect?

I'm a drug dealer, for fucks sake.

I sell and buy drugs, I even own weed fields.

I'm involved with multiple wanted criminals and I live a dangerous life.

You can't expect me to be soft at heart, not when people like my own father turned their back on me.

Surprisingly, I myself am not wanted.

I'm actually not even a recorded criminal, since I've never been arrested or on the run from the cops.

I'm careful with everything, I leave no traces.

But then again part of the reason might also be that lawfully speaking, I'm not even a real person.

I don't even exist on paper thanks to my father who had all evidences of my existence destroyed.

My birth certificate, passport, school documents, you name it.

Legally, Ambrosia Rosario is not even a fucking person.

And to be honest, I don't give a fuck.

My dad, he's dead now. And I killed him. No regrets.

I shot him through the head 4 times.

Once for killing my mother.
The second time for putting a bounty on my head because I ran away; 1 million captured dead and 5 million alive.
Third for torturing and killing my boyfriend and making me watch, tied to a chair and lastly, for bringing me into a life I didn't want- all this illegal shit.

My dad was a bitchacho ass mong and I hope that he's burning in hell right now.

"Honestly? No you don't. But I saw you sitting alone, so I joined you. If you don't mind me asking, what's a pretty lady like you doing all alone?" Roman answering me slightly flirtatiously cuts me out of my thoughts.

"Staying home and binge watching shows was sort of doing my head in after a while so I decided to leave the house, not be a pig for once." I shrug, answering him as casually as I can.

Lies.

I'm never a pig, I don't usually have the time to binge watch the shows because my life could be one.

I'm out putting a bullet through people's heads while other people are at home, finishing their homework and wasting their lives away on pointless shit like a piece of paper called a fucking degree that decides how easy or hard your life will be.

Roman and I talked about random things for a while and then all of a sudden, my inner hoe his possessed me and I seduced him, and then him and I are both getting into his Mercedes, to fuck the shit out of each other at his house.

Or so he told me.

Little did I fucking know.

I got into his car and almost instantly, something felt off.

I couldn't place my finger on it but I just knew.

I ignored the feeling anyway and I continued talking to Roman.

Then all of a sudden, when we're on an almost empty road, some guy suddenly springs out from the back, pressing a cold white cloth over my face that smells of a familiar chemical.

Chloroform.

I've been knocked out too many times with this shit while being kidnapped, I'm more than familiar with it.

It's like eating a bar of chocolate on my period, that's how good I know it.

I hold my breath and pull out a gun from my boot, using my free hand to feel for the guy's head since I can't see with the cloth pressed over my face.

I use the butt of my gun to whack the guy on the head and knock him out cold but he takes me down with him, punching me in the stomach, causing me to gasp in pain and unwillingly breathe in the chemical.

Then, everything went black.

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