TONY: Book 1 of The De Luca Brothers Series [COMPLETED]

11:

BANG!

I gasp and jerk away from the kitchen door as the two dealers shout out and dive down. I bite my lip- this is it, the distraction. The kitchen door suddenly bursts open as one of the two men stumble onto the floor, their gun sprawling out of their lose grip. The person groans and presses a hand to his shoulder, cursing profanities underneath his breath.

My stomach drops.

His gaze flickers up and locks on mine, his entire demeanour shifts from vulnerable to guarded within seconds and we both freeze. Gunshots fire in the background as we stare each other down, my heart leaps in my throat as a small bead of sweat trickles down his temple.
I decide to make the first move. Lunging towards the gun, the wounded man launches at me and collides into my skinny body with a surprising force due to his injury. He cries out in pain but continues driving forward and I land on my back with him on top. I grunt and grimace due to my sensitive scratches but bite through it, smacking him in the face.

He lets out a pained chuckle before using his big hands to wrap around my neck with a vicelike grip. I gasp and claw at his hands as I feel a pressure begin to develop in the front of my head, I kick and writhe under his weight, but he just won't budge. Making the rash decision, I feel his bullet wound in his shoulder and dig my thumb into it. He lets out a treacherous scream, and rolls off of me, holding onto his shoulder as he lets out another roar.

I heave as I try to gather as much air into my lungs as humanly possible and begin to crawl towards the gun. I pick it up with two shaky hands and point it threateningly at the man who raises his one good arm in surrender. I bite my lip unsurely but shake my head, pointing for him to lay down with the gun. He understands and lowers himself down onto the floor.

I glance out into the dining room to see it empty and quickly shuffle around the dining table to the white door. I look at it unsurely before I open it up with a soft click. The overwhelming smell of Mary Jane wafts up my nostrils and I grimace at the stench. The gunshots move closer, as if heading from upstairs to downstairs.

A force barrels into the back of me and sends me flying onto the white floor, skidding to a squeaky stop. I groan and roll onto my back, glancing to see bad-shoulder-man gritting his teeth with pain as he makes his way to me.

I raise the gun and he stops, laughs and continues forward. My breath hitches and I begin scooting backwards, the gun shakily pointing at the bloke who is grinning a forced grin as his eyes sparkle with amusement.

"You won't shoot," he declares.

"Y-Yes I will," I claim in a high pitched voice.

He laughs again, gripping his shoulder, "No you won't."

So without thinking clearly, ignoring the pricking of tears and my moral compass, I pull the trigger and shoot the bastard. He lets out another wail of pain, his knee jolts unnaturally backwards and he falls onto the ground, screaming bloody murder. I know I don't have enough time, I can barely process what I've just done let alone what I'm about to do.

I put the gun on the table before pulling out the lighter and aerosol. Flipping the lighter on, I open the deodorant with my teeth and spit out the lid, hesitating for a split second: may as well. I bite my lip and press the aerosol. It ignites at the flame and a torch of angry fire lashes out in front of me. My eyes widen and I glance at the wounded dude for a second. He's sliding himself against the floor, using his good arm as tears leak down his cheeks.

I point the makeshift flamethrower at the plants and they light up. The entire room turns from blue to a horrifying yellow as the flames lick the ceiling, hungrily, greedily. Once I'm sure the fire will spread, I pocket the items, including the gun and go to run past the man who's by the door- he grips my ankle and I trip, fall and whack my face on the dining table. I hear a sickening crack and cry, my nose running rivers of blood down to my chin. I force myself to look up, but I can feel the heat behind me and the mutterings of panic from the weird dude. Nose throbbing, back aching, muscles screaming and one breath away to a mental breakdown, I begin commando crawling underneath the table, until the man once again grapples my ankle in a sick attempt to stop me. I push against his hold, but it only tightens.

"I am not dying by myself!" He snaps, I look behind me and kick at him, but his bony fingers tighten as the flames grow into a red monster. Smoke billows out of the small room and we both begin to cough furiously.

"Let me go!" I yell and gag at the strong taste of my coppery blood.

He doesn't reply, but he shuffles uncomfortably away from the flames, shouldering against the doorframe until he looses his balance and falls onto his bad shoulder. He screams and his hold loosens. I take the opportunity to crawl faster, however his determination is frightening as he too begins crawling. Crawling so quick that his upper body covers my ankles, then my legs. My head pops out of the other side of the table but I can't move. Instead, I'm left paralysed underneath a deadweight.

"Fuck off!" I shout at him, tears pouring down my cheeks. "Get the fuck off of me!"

He ignores my shouts and holds onto me- and then starts to scream. It takes me a moment to realise the flames have finally found him, probably burning his legs. His screams rip through me and I'm left wide eyed, wanting to run but also strangely wanting to help this man.

Two hands grip my wrists and pull me from under the writhing man. The strong guy then pushes me behind him, whips out a gun and shoots the man in his head. He goes limp.

Bile rises in my throat as I look at the inferno inside the once white room, blinking back already flowing tears and looking away. Toro grips my upper arm and drags me into the kitchen, where he proceeds to flip the water dispenser. The entire room is then filled with falling water, dosing out the billowing fire and putting me at ease. Until I realise I practically murdered a man.