A Lesson Never Learned [✔]

o n e

My feet hit the ground, hating the fact that these shoes were wearing out. Maybe I'd ask my dad to give me some money so I could buy some new shoes...but then again, I really avoid asking my father for money, knowing that at least 75% of it was stolen. I sighed and rubbed my arms, walking a bit faster, hating the cold that was panting at my neck. My father was out again tonight and my brother was supposed to be watching me. Like hell, he was watching me. I was nineteen, Christ's sake. My brother was only four years older than me. I didn't need looking after. But, of course, being the only girl in the big 'family' and happening to be the youngest, it was a deadly combination. I hated it.

I sourly kicked at a can that was in the alleyway and frowned as the cold bit my nose. I pictured one of the stories my mother had told me when I was only three years old. 'That's Jack Frost kissing you, Lily, telling you to put on a scarf.' she would say. I rolled my eyes and sneered at the ground hating everything even more.

I rounded the corner, splashing a puddle on my way, remembering why I left my house anyway.

My brother was being a little bitch again by saying that I had to stay home because dad was on an important drug run. That meant that I had to stay in my room, away from everyone else. To make sure that I was away from the 'badness'. My mother's last wishes were that I stayed in school, so my father and brother made sure I did exactly that, making sure that I stayed away from whatever they were doing, so I could graduate and get a job. But everything that they did seemed so exciting, and I just wanted to see what it was all about.

And that's why I left my room, sneaking out and following where my father slunk off to. I stayed in school. I graduated, but my father was still against me joining in the gang.

I cautiously played with my braids which were fishtailed on either side of my head, my leather jacket clinging to my skin. I whined slightly in the back of my throat, peering in the darkness. I saw my father and his second hand man disappear around the corner of another alley. I tiptoed cautiously around the corner and had to cover my mouth when I gasped.

My father was pressed against the wall, a gun pressed to his temple, the second hand man had a knife pressed to his throat.

They were outnumbered, of course, by a three, leaving my father's attackers at a grand total of five. I clutched my hands to my mouth, hiding behind a dumpster, my eyes squeezing shut as I heard them talk.

"So this is your way of finally killing me? Cornering me in the dark with four more men, holding me against a wall with a barrel of a gun pointed at my head?" smirked my father. I could tell he wasn't afraid, which is what I realized the business must've done to him. I was still too petrified to do anything as I kept listening.

"This is how my father died, isn't it?" breathed a voice too close for my comfort. "You pushed him against a wall, you cornered him, having ten men vs. one, and you shot him in the face, didn't you?"

My father snorted. "This isn't exactly how your father died. He was alone."

"Even more cowardly." the man snapped. I heard A strangled noise and a body hit the ground. I peeked my head around the corner, still masked by the darkness. I wish I never looked. It made me want to scream as loud as I could and run as fast as I could.

My father's right hand man, someone who was basically family to me, was lying on the ground, his eyes glassy and open, his throat pouring blood as his mouth was open, blood still dripping down. A foot swiftly kicked the dead man in his face, his head snapping back uselessly as he laid there, dead.

I turned back into my hiding place and sobbed silently in my hands. I knew that someone who would slit someone's throat and kick their carcass in the face would not take pity on my father, or me. I needed to get out of here. But what about my father?