The world is a fucked up place and I don't mean in some cliche, teenage book way where their best friend moves away or they don't pass their test even though they studied.
I mean when someone can murder an entire house of people, children and all, and not feel an ounce of regret.
It was only an hour after the last funeral, my brother's. At sixteen, he was only two years younger than me and already gearing up to take our Father's place. I sighed, sitting on the bed that I've laid in for the past eighteen years, but it wasn't the same. Emotionally, I was null. I used all of my tears the night I found everyone. No one knew who did it or everyone was just too scared to give a name, either way, they were no help. Each funeral was packed people from all over the city, including the Russian and Italian mob. I've never seen mobsters cry, but there's a first for everything. I couldn't help but to think that if I was in this house that night, I would be dead too. That would be the end of the Black mafia. The end of the Bovee family, but yet here I am, the last remaining member of the Bovee family. …show more content…
Screw those people who romanticize the Mafia. It's all fun and games, until you're a moving, living target.
"Rose." my name was called from my door, causing me to exit my thoughts and pay attention to the man that was at my door.
"Yes?" I asked, my voice monotonous. The figure started walking towards me. I looked closer to see my personal bodyguard that the Italians forced me to have. His name was Oronzo Udinesi. He was 6'2 to, monster size compared to my 5'7. At 29 years old, he has already dedicated himself to protecting me from everything, even paper cuts.
"Have you made your decision yet?" He asked, making sure to stop himself from getting too close to my body. He stood at the end of the
I mean when someone can murder an entire house of people, children and all, and not feel an ounce of regret.
It was only an hour after the last funeral, my brother's. At sixteen, he was only two years younger than me and already gearing up to take our Father's place. I sighed, sitting on the bed that I've laid in for the past eighteen years, but it wasn't the same. Emotionally, I was null. I used all of my tears the night I found everyone. No one knew who did it or everyone was just too scared to give a name, either way, they were no help. Each funeral was packed people from all over the city, including the Russian and Italian mob. I've never seen mobsters cry, but there's a first for everything. I couldn't help but to think that if I was in this house that night, I would be dead too. That would be the end of the Black mafia. The end of the Bovee family, but yet here I am, the last remaining member of the Bovee family. …show more content…
Screw those people who romanticize the Mafia. It's all fun and games, until you're a moving, living target.
"Rose." my name was called from my door, causing me to exit my thoughts and pay attention to the man that was at my door.
"Yes?" I asked, my voice monotonous. The figure started walking towards me. I looked closer to see my personal bodyguard that the Italians forced me to have. His name was Oronzo Udinesi. He was 6'2 to, monster size compared to my 5'7. At 29 years old, he has already dedicated himself to protecting me from everything, even paper cuts.
"Have you made your decision yet?" He asked, making sure to stop himself from getting too close to my body. He stood at the end of the