The Professional | h.s. |

preface

Matilda was a lonely and solemn girl. She didnt have very many friends at school, but only because she kept to herself. Her home life was a travesty as her mother was never home and her father was the worst coke dealer imaginable. Many of the men her father sold for came often to accuse her father of cheating them out of their money.

"C'mon Tony, we know you got the fuckin' coke hid up in this dump, give us the coke and we'll be on our way", an angry man said.

Matilda was used to the fighting whether it be her parents, or her older sister accusing her of something, so she tuned it out.

"We're coming back Tony, tomorrow at noon, if you dont give us our shit we'll kill you and your whole goddamn family" the angry man continued.

The voices left but this gave leaveway for her parents to begin to argue so Matilda got up and left the apartment. She walked down the hall, dangled her feet off the floor, and leaned on the railing. She looked down to see a man beginning to walk up the many flights of stairs. She soon remembered the cigarette she had in her pocket and quickly lit it.

"You shouldnt smoke" said the curly haired man.

"Dont tell my ol' man he'd be so angry with me if he found out" she pleaded.

The man looked at the girl up and down, but his gaze lingered on the large bruise forming on her cheek. Matilda noticed, and turned her head so he could no longer see her marked face.

"What happend?" The man asked.

"Fell off my bed" said Matilda.

The man was too reclusive to care and dropped the conversation, turning on his heal. Matilda noticed he was carrying many bags of milk, and remembered to buy him some to thank him for keeping quiet. Her thoughts were soon interrupted as her father came out of the appartment and walked past her furiously. Only to walk a couple of steps back, and take the cigarette out of her hands, throw it on the ground, and slap her harshly on the face.

"What I tell ya about smokin' those fuckin' cigarettes Matilda?!" Her father yelled angrily.

Matilda hung her head and ran back inside her appartment to her room, all the while as the man with the curly hair watched from the peep hole on his door.

The man with the curly hair knew not to stick his nose in places it didnt belong. But it was very hard not to when the screaming and crying coming through the paper thin walls was always constant. The man put his groceries aways, and prepared to go to sleep. He sat in his chair and laid his glock 19 on the night stand beside him, and fell asleep.