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We were best friends. Who just happened to be sleeping together. At sixteen.
They wouldn’t approve. It was one of their many rules. And only they knew the real reason they didn’t want any of us together.
With every kiss, I lied and said it was worth a life, life is fleeting anyway, why not spend it in someone’s arms? Better yet, why not spend it in his bed?
It’s how we solved everything. Violence.
“The sins of the father are passed down—break my trust, and I’ll remove this scar from your body and make you wear one around your face.”
And then his small voice piped up. “Blood in.” “No out,” we said in unison.
His smile was cruel but so beautiful I ached. Straight white teeth, a small dimple on the right corner, jet black hair and teal eyes. “You’re forgettable. That’s not my fault, is it?”
Who ran the world? The Five Families. The Chicago mafia. Crime syndicate. Whatever you wanted to call it. We were it. It… owned us.
Talk about it… and you might just get killed.
“One day… I’m going to kill you.” He said it like a promise. And I answered in truth. “You can’t kill what’s already dead.” For a brief moment, I felt his fingertips graze mine.
“I’ll hate you for as long as we both shall live,” I uttered the mantra we’d been repeating to each other for years. “Hate you,” she repeated in a soft voice. “For as long as we both shall live.” And so, the hurt continued.
