•The Assassin Series•
"And through all the pain you caused, I still look at you as if you painted the sky." ~K.R
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Anastasia Romano is very upbeat and happy girl despite everything she has been through.
She is a lot like her mother, Alan...
The dog is this chapter is based off of my dog in real life. Same breed, characteristics, mannerisms, etc. Her name is the same as well. ^^
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Chapter Six
Something wet slowly licks my chin and I groan, trying to roll over. A heavy weight plants itself on my chest, small, quick licks—multiple of them—planted onto my stumble and I mumble incoherently, realizing I probably have to shave.
A low growl sounds and I flinch, waiting for what happens next. "Jesus fuck!" I shout as the loud, deep bark echoes off the walls of my room. "Bailey, get your fat ass off of me."
When I squint my eyes open, her droopy eyes are staring up at me in a pouting manner, the white beneath her eyes revealing and a slow, desperate whine drawing out of her chest. I narrow my eyes at her and sit up. Her tails wags. Sneaky bitch.
"Do you need to go potty?" I inquire and she seems to frown, her head tilting. "Do you want to go outside?"
I am tackled and, quite frankly, I don't like the feeling of suffocation. "Bailey! Bae—no. S-Stop! I will drop kick your ass if you don't—"
A bird chirps past the window and Bailey places her paws on my chest, using it as if it was a trampoline. I huff and groan, curling into myself as she bounds towards my window, barking.
"Bailey, shut the fuckup!" I scold and shove the pillow closest to me over my face, slamming it into my head repeatedly. "I am going to kill myself."
Jumping up out of bed and startling Bailey, I storm out of my room and stomp downstairs. The scratching of Bailey's claws against the hardwood floors has me running a hand down my face and stopping, waiting for her. She turns the corner and fails to skid to a stop, instead, running into my legs.
Backing up, she waddles around my body and stops in front of me, waiting with her tail wagging. "I'm convinced you broke yourself when you jumped out of the car." I mutter and walk around her, opening the sliding back door that leads to the torn up garden.
You would think a Mob Boss would buy something like a Doberman, a Rottweiler, a fucking Malinois. But no, not me. I got stuck with an English Labrador who jumped out the car window at six months old. Now she has crooked bottom teeth, a bad attitude, and a messed up mind.
I don't even bother trying to keep the back yard nice anymore. She digs even when there is nothing left to dig.
I live alone. No guards. I live in a small, secluded neighborhood, at the end of the block. My house is, of course, the one gated off. I have security and shit like that but I don't want people constantly looming outside of my house.
