MIDNIGTH KILLER

~Reina~

Being a rich ass 20 year-old gang leader was not on my bucket list but I freaking love it. The smell of blood, people's cries that sounded like music to me made me happy.

I never had a family that brought me up to be 'normal'. My family was made with the Stingers.

I became their weapon, their shield, their ruthless enforcer. Killing was my trade, my survival. Money was the only currency I recognized. My parents? A blur, a distant echo. The lonely, scared child I once was is a ghost. The Stingers were my family, crime my inheritance.

I'd grown up in a world where violence was as commonplace as breathing. The scent of blood was familiar, the rhythm of gunfire a lullaby. My childhood was a blur of shadows, punctuated by the harsh commands of my superiors. I learned to suppress emotions, to replace empathy with indifference. The world was a chessboard, and human life was merely pawns to be sacrificed.

Now, as they circled the house, I stepped into the lion's den. Each guard that fell was a victory, a coin in my growing empire. The adrenaline coursed through my veins, a potent and intoxicating elixir. There was a cold satisfaction in the efficiency of my actions, a perverse sense of accomplishment. I was a predator, and this was my hunt.

"Happy family, huh? Pathetic." My words made some flinch their way to face me while other just faced me.

I circled the table, a predator stalking its prey. My hand snaked into the waistband of my black cargos, emerging with the cold steel of my pistol. A quick glance at my blood-splattered reflection in the glass confirmed the chaos I'd wrought. Their fear was palpable, a sweet scent amidst the metallic tang of iron.

The sound of a loud fired gun echoed throughout the room. I smiled as I saw the woman who I suppose was the mom going down, her body stiff. She was gone. I placed the gun on his head making him close his eyes shut ready to meet with the devil. Tears flowed down his cheek like a running waterfall.

"patetico"I spat.

(Pathetic)

I squatted to his level, lowering the gun.

"Don't cry you little fagot. You'll soon be reunited with your wife and children." He looked at me confused because his kids were alive.

Bang! Bang!

Each bullet for each child dropping them dead. I always hated the Mafia. They think they are superior but I just made this fucking Dick bag Italian mafia dump cry.

"You crazy godforsaken bitch, you'll pay with your blood." He said like some chaotic deranged bastard.

"First of all, I'm no bitch, I'm a fucking assassin. Secondly," I responded while opening his mouth "I pay with the blood of others not mine" and with that, I cocked the gun, realizing the bullet down his throat. I peeled his blood off my face and licked it. I could feel his gagging on my gun in fear before I pulled the trigger.

Bunch of freaks.

Their hands, entwined in death, were a macabre tableau of love's fragility. A pathetic display of vulnerability. Such weakness was a foreign concept to me. Love was a luxury, a distraction that could blind even the sharpest mind. I'd traded emotions for efficiency, heart for cold calculation. No one would ever hold me captive with such a foolish thing.

Love is just a stupid mistake made by many ignorant souls.