Juvenile Delinquents

Breakups

     The moment we stepped outside, I pulled my arm from his hard grip. Stepping back, I held my arms cross my chest. Refusing to proceed. His eyes showed rage, as he ran his hands threw his dark hair. My hard glare was not working, I was not intimidating him but someone had to show the gang leader that she couldn't control others. Especially his girlfriend. "The hell do you mean I control you?" Those were the first words he'd said.

     My eyes rolled. I leaned against the brick wall behind me. My hard stance not faltering for a moment. "You treat me like a child. You always need to be by my side or else something bad could happen." I pushed a piece of hair behind my ear. "As if you constantly need to protect me."

    He pointed a finger at me. "Exactly! Because that's all I'm trying to do. I just want to protect you."

     "But sighing a contract with my father about it? You need to understand that I could handle myself! I've done it for two years. I went through being kidnapped without you. Running from the cops without you. Hell, I even managed to fight Greta without you!" My eyes narrowed. A frown on my lips. "I could handle myself without you so, stop treating me like I can't."  

     Tyson sighed. "I understand but that was then and this is now." He stepped closer. Blue eyes begging me to listen. "Now, Jackson is after you. He wants you dead. And what are you doing?" His voice was laced with venom as he inched closer. "You're prancing around when you should be by my side, where I can protect you!"

     "See this is exactly what I'm talking about!" I said putting my arms in front of me as I pointed to his body up and down. "This is why you get me mad and why you treat me like a child. You can't order me around! I'm not your little bitch who should fucking obey you. I'm not a dog. Stop treating me like one."

     "Well maybe if you joined your fathers' Mafia, we wouldn't be having this problem." He mumbled but I heard. And, was I mad.

     Anger filled up within me as I pushed off the wall and stood right in front of him. "What the fuck did you just say?" I growled out. My face was inches away from his. "Did you just say what I think you said?"

     Tyson accepted my challenge. He stood taller, proving his height was superior to mine. He blue eyes narrowed. Words clear. "If you were apart of the mafia, I wouldn't have to worry about someone trying to kill you because they'd kill him first." He stepped. "Or better yet, you'd kill again. It wouldn't be the first time you tried to kill someone. You would fit perfectly in a Mafia. Killing people is like a sport for you." My breathing hitched as I tried to push back the tears that were ready to fall.

     He quickly heard his mistake and began to mumble about how he didn't mean it but I blocked him out. He just told me I would be amazing in a mafia That's my worst nightmare. Killing people was a sport to me and he truly believed it. I knew he would react that way once he found out. Everything would be ruined. But I refused to let him get the last word.

     Cutting him off, my hand flew to his face. Slapping the smooth skin of his cheek. My breaths were heavy and the loud smack was heard. People walking by widened their eyes and scurried away. He hurt me and I wanted nothing more than to put him back in his place. "Unlike you, I don't want people to run at the sound of my name. I don't want to be criminal or a murder. Because unlike you, at the age of thirteen, I was in school while you were a thief."

     "Are you calling me a criminal?"

     "You bet your ass I am." I seethed at him. "Why else would you be the gang leader? You enjoy the fear you cause and the orders coming with it. After all, it sure as hell wasn't your parents—oh wait!" I knew I was about to step onto a sensitive topic but hell, it was worth it. "You weren't the scary and tough one. Your father was. He was the murderer and he was the one who killed innocent lives."