A Gangster's Trilogy: Book 1
(Unedited)
Ranked #2 in ProjectBreakFree: May 2018
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Hannah would have never imagined the life of secrets her family hid from her. Would have laughed at the thought.
That was before... before she stumbled in on her boy...
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Laying in bed, I stared at the ceiling. Sleep was evading me as my thoughts wondered.
I missed my life. Missed my friends, school, my father. I missed the innocent life I had, the life that I was torn from just months before.
Months, it had been more then weeks since my father's murder, and I was locked in some condo apartment with no contact with the outside world.
The sound of the bedroom door opening drew my attention, pulling me from my darkening thoughts.
"Can't sleep?" the deep voice sending my heart pounding.
"No," I pushed myself up and turned on the bedside lamp, causing us both to squint to adjust to the light.
"Me either," Gage said as he moved over to the bed. I pulled my legs up so he could sit on the bed.
"How did you know I was awake?" he smiled softly as he leaned over to brush is thumb over my cheek.
"I heard you sniffling," I set my chin on my knees.
"These walls must be really thin," he chuckled softly.
"Do you want yo talk about what is keeping you up?" I shook my head, I most definitely did not want to talk, "I know you have been through a lot, and you know I am here for you,"
My heart clenched as his words. I knew he cared, but those words reminded me that not to long ago I looked at him like a second brother.
"What's keeping you awake?" he stayed quiet as I stared at the bed, waiting to see if he would respond.
"I don't sleep much," I lifted my head and looked at him, I never knew that. As if he read my mind, me smiled, "Never have,"
"Why?" at my question, he looked away, staring at the floor. I almost didn't think he would answer.
"Did Aaron, or your father, ever tell you why I was at your house all of the time?" his words were gruff as he continued to stare at the floor.
"No," Tilting my head, I tried to see his face, his eyes, they were what showed me truly who he was.
"My home life wasn't a good one," he started, "My mother was a drug addict, always passed out or so completely stoned out of her mind, she couldn't function. I was forced to do everything, forced to deal with whatever guy she brought home, whatever druggie she decided was her new best friend," I watched his stone face as he closed his eyes, "even as a child I learned to hide the bruises, I had been taken from her more times that I can count,"
I placed my hand on his shoulder as he paused to take a shaky breath.
"I was thirteen when my sister was born," I gasped, not realizing he had a sister, "she was a preemie, she never left the hospital," I found myself moving my hand along his back comfortingly, "her withdrawals were too much, her little body couldn't handle it,"
