The Mafia Leaders Brother

Chapter 15- Don't Know Why

Malia~

My hands were shaking; my breathing was hard and uneven; my body frozen.

The gun dropped from my hand as I took a step back.

I felt my body coil tight, getting ready to run, but a voice made my blood run cold...

~~~~~~~~~4 Hours Before~~~~~~~~

I had just left the hospital, walking everywhere to find a shuttle to get me to where I need to go. I didn't want to take a cab because I didn't have any money on me, but the shuttles were free if you lived within an hour from where you got on.

I'm able to track one down and am on my way back to the house. My leg is bouncing up and down in nerves and anger.

Dave went too far. I promised myself I wouldn't break...but how could I not? He brought god-knows-who into our house, trashed the place, dirtied it up with sex play, and left.

I may have been weak and submissive when he's beat me into hell, but he won't be able to hurt Aaron since he wouldn't even be in the same house.

My eyes close and I breathe heavily as the image of Aaron having a hard time breathing takes over. Every time I think about I wonder what would've happened if I hadn't called for help. Or if the paramedics didn't arrive in time.

I clench my hands into fists as I stare out the side window, thinking of how I am going to do what I have to...and how it will affect us.

The shuttle announces its arrive at my stop and I usher off, having my decision made up. I'm about a block or two from the house and I decide to hurry and run over.

I'm almost there and notice that Dave is back yet. In fact, the police have been long gone and had nailed the door shut after they had questioned me. I had lied and said someone had broken in. They were going to "investigate" when they had the time.

I knew even before then that I'd have to take matters into my own hands.

My body was sore and felt like it was about to shut down from running and getting no sleep, but I didn't let it stop me from kicking the door in.

I don't waste my time and start rummaging through the living room first; checking under thrown clothes, ripped cushions, and a broken table before moving into the kitchen.

"Where...I know it's here...I can't...where...," I murmur, throwing the cupboards and drawers open.

I rush upstairs, trying to hurry and find what I'm looking for because there is this nagging feeling that at the back of my head that this will happen quicker than I expected it to.

I head to Dave's room door and hesitate to open it. In all my years of living here, not once have I attempted or even thought of entering this part of the house.

I always knew I'd get punished if I did. I always knew this was the dirtiest room in this house. But I pushed I didn't care about that anymore.

Instead of opening it like a sane person, I kicked it in, watching as it fell off its hinges with a thud. It was only fair his shit got thrown around.

I stare inside his room, my eyes darting to his unmade bed, dirty clothes scattered across the floor, cocaine lined up on his dresser, alcohol bottles on his floor, and so much more.

My hands clench and I grind me teeth together in anger. I rush back downstairs to the kitchen and grab the biggest knife I could find. Running back into his room, I start at his bed.

The thing I was looking for could wait.

I dig the knife into his bed and use my strength to cut his sheets and pillows into shreds. I grab one of his empty beer bottles and throw it at the wall atop his bed.