Riot [On Hold]

Chapter 6

The blood in my veins was dirty even before I was born.

"That's funny, because I never told you what my name was,yet you know who I am."

The silence echoed in the room,he stared at me,emotionless.

"You're on the news."

"What?"

He pulled out his phone and showed me a report from the national news station.

My eyes widened as I read the page,my name,my social security number,everything was on that page.

Is that even legal?

"Didn't think you were the kind of person to read the news", I said coyly.

But my heart was pounding.

"So,you've been convicted for mass murder and have multiple personalities,and have also been responsible for theft and arson?"

He smirked.

I said nothing,my eyes clasping shut,the memories returning to plague my soul.

Riot,I think we both know who did this.
Daddy's back.

Flashback
3 years ago

A while ago, I had alot. I lived in a mansion, I had expensive things,but I never had one thing.

The love from my mother and father.

My father,the head of the Italian Mafia, has no touch of personality,no stream of guilt.

He did what he wanted to my mother and got me,and he did what he wanted to me when I was older.

I was never allowed out,always forced inside like a rat in a mouse trap.

I was too small for that: I wanted to see the world.

I wanted to be human.

I hit the bag again,harder this time as I was whipped from behind.

The sound of my hands against its surface echoed against the walls of the gym.

I winced in pain as I was whipped again.

"Riot, punch  harder. Or you'll be getting another one."

I nodded,hiding my face as tears slipped out of my eyes in pain.

I lived in a world where I couldn't say no to the Mafia.

It was my life.

I punched the bag harder, faster, brushing away the exhaustion that embraced me.

My father stood in front of me looking at me, his eyes cold,still, and emotionless.

"Give her another one."

My eyes widened, the fear of the blow  causing pain to sweep through me, my hands bloody.

It was a constant cycle of torture.

That's what I'd call my childhood,my youth.

I was never young.

2 hours later

I stumbled into my room and closed the door before locking it.

I let my emotions out. Tears flowed freely down my face as I screamed in pain, staring at myself in the mirror.

My hands were bloody, swollen with all the pain. My hair was dishevelled,my shirt ripped, my trousers stained.

I looked away and walked towards the window,my only escape from the pain.