Saving The Gangsta

f i f t e e n

t a y l o r

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Sometimes you have to stop being scared and just go for it. Either it will work out, or it won't. That's life.

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I fucking believed her.

She made me believe her.

What. A. Dick.

I couldn't ignore the way she made me feel, as though my stomach was constantly aflame. Tiny sparks igniting my skin.

She's fire.

And I guess I was always destined to get burned.

Her parents.

I can understand siblings, they get under anyone's skin. But parents? No matter what they do, they made you you.

She was right when she said I don't know nothing about her.

I really don't.

Just when I thought I had her somewhat figured out, she goes and sends me back to the start all again.

"ARE YOU FUCKING JOKING ME?!"

I flinch as she storms into my room, a baseball bat in her hand and a bag in the other.

"You trashed my room?" She screams, raising her eyebrows in question. She drops the bag. "Guess I'll have to return the favor."

I stay silent, at least until she begins smashing shit up.

 What the fuck are you doing?!" I shout back at her, backing away from her as my mirror crashes to the ground and glass goes everywhere. "You're fucking crazy."

"You're right, I am crazy. But you know what else? I don't give a fuck." The bat swings again, this time hitting, and destroying, my bedside table.

"Stop it!"

"You ruined my room. You ruined my stuff. Stuff from my childhood, shit that meant stuff to me." The closet follows next. "Karma's a motherfucking bitch."

"You need to calm dow-"

"No! You need to stay in your fucking lane and stop involving yourself in my business. You wanna know something? Fucking ask me." She pointed the bat at me now, a sharp and dangerous collision between a fire and an ocean appeared in her irises.

"Then calm down, I didn't touch your room." Hesitation appears in her gaze at my words, "It was Devil."

She turns her head on me, the realisation hurting her. Astrid's voice breaks, "None of you know shit."

"Why'd you kill them?" I ask, despite secretly knowing I wouldn't receive an answer.

She just moves to sit on my bed.

I think for a moment, considering what could get me the most answers. "What was your childhood like?"

She paused for a second. "Suffocating."

My brows furrow, "That's an unusual choice of words."

"I never had a choice in what I had to do." She said, still not looking at me. "I had to make sacrifices and do things I didn't want to, all so I could survive. I was put in impossible situations, faced with the most unlikely of things."

"You're not the sort of person who does things they don't agree with." I say lightly, knowing that she wasn't one to give in easy.

I mean, no one's ever come into my room with a baseball bat before.