POV: Angelo

The blood in my veins turns icy. The way it is being pumped through my veins feels like millions of sharp shards of ice tearing each vein slowly apart, causing every nerve inside me to scream in agony.

My head is pounding so hard making me faint and all I can hear is piercing screeches penetrating my eardrums making it seem as if blood is gushing out of them.

My throat tightens and air is no longer filling my lungs. As I'm slowly asphyxiating, I close my eyes, begging for the suffering to halt.

Within a milo second, they suddenly shoot wide open again and I take a huge breath.
I blink. Several times. But I'm still shocked. Livid. Confused.

I stare coldly at the three faces ahead of me.

One of pity. Another of curiosity.
And a third of... mortification? Disgust? Or perhaps sheer terror.

Upon seeing the third face, my gut knots and my heavy heart becomes harder to bear, sinking into a pit of gloom and despair.

I can bear it no longer. So I leave.

—

80...90...100 miles per hour. I speed down the empty road the digits on the speed monitor of my car increasing.

I groan aggressively and slam my fist against the steering wheel.

Fury and pain are blinding me. As the emotions continue to pile I lose concentration on the road.

I swerve off the road into a forest and immediately slam onto the breaks. My face slams onto the steering wheel and everything turns black.

I remember the rage - the anger whilst driving. The way my heart pumped so hard, I thought that my chest would explode.

The throbbing veins in my neck and forehead bulged from my skin and my muscles were tense and solid preventing me from much movement.

My eyesight was distorted and fuzzy but I could see a car trailing me.

"Go away! I want to be alone." I hissed at the car mirror and then I slammed my foot on the acceleration.

Branches cracked and scratched my car, destroying it completely. There were trees surrounding me so I swerved frantically between them hoping to lose the car trailing me.

I twisted my head and torso to check that the car had disappeared but it still remained on my tail.

By now I had grown extremely paranoid but the instant I turned around my car rammed directly into a huge tree.

My fuzzy vision then turned black, and screams echoed through my scull. I could feel a sharp pain in my leg and my head get crushed against the wheel.

I tried to move but the immense anguish I felt held me firmly in place.

I felt the car door fly open and someone shake me trying to awaken me, but it was too lake.

I lost consciousness and everything turned dead.

I gasp for air and my eyes fly open at the odd feeling of déjà vu. I shoot upright and frantically scan my surroundings.

I'm in a car. This isn't my car. And I'm in a forest, crashed against a tree.

Shards of glass are scattered inside and outside the car due to the windscreen being completely shattered. The bonnet is crushed and so is the majority of the rest of the car.

Lift my hand to remove the glass surrounding me and am shocked to see blood oozing from my arm. I then look up and down my self to find blood gushing through my shirt.

I lift it up to see so much blood pouring out from my ribs.

I slowly remove myself from the car. I then take of my shirt and press it against my wounded torso trying to prevent the blood flow.

My head begins to pound harder and louder, and I lose the ability to think straight.

As I attempt to step forward, I stumble and my body slams against the floor.

No matter how much I try, I can't get up. I accept defeat...

"Stupid boy! Get up now." A man growls at me and he seems familiar.

"I-I can't." I weep, like a young boy. I look down at myself and realisation strikes...I am a little boy.

"P-please Padre, I surrender." I cry out.

"Never! My son will never surrender. Not until the last beat of his heart, his final breath. Am I understood?!" He screams at my face.

Slowly I drag my arms to my side trying to peel my limp body from the floor.

I tell myself that I can do this. Determination and will power motivate me to get up.

It takes me a while, but in the end I get up.

"Remember. Never surrender. You are Angelo Santovendito, my son. We are the kings and shall not be overthrown." He states proudly.

"Now, what are the three rules?" He asks then waits expectantly. He folds his strong arms against his chest and starts to tap his polished shoe impatiently. His dark eyes bore into my soul and his stance intimidates me.

He looks exactly like me but slightly older, and he has dark brown eyes instead of my dull grey orbs. His ebony black hair is slicked back perfectly and his skin is tanned. The Armani suit he wears is black with a red tie, emphasising the dangerous aura that looms over him.

Upon assessing him, I realise that this man is the very same one who was in the first flashback I received after escaping the hospital.

This man... he's no ordinary man.
He's...my father?!

"Rule 1:No emotions, it's kill or be killed.
Rule 2:Never surrender.
Rule 3:Power is everything." I reply confidently, the speech snapping me out of my previous thoughts.

"Well, son I think your finally ready." He then says lifting his chin, straightening his posture and brushing down his suit blazer.

Ready? What for?

He then reaches into the inside of his blazer and pulls out something black and shiny.

He hands it to me.

It's quite heavy and obviously metal. I turn it in my hands and grip it at my palm.

It's shocking that I'm only about 10, yet I'm handling a gun like it's a child's toy.

The deadliest weapon in the world has been entrusted in the hands of a kid.

My chest is pounding at 100 miles a minute and I'm reluctant to open my eyes.

I slowly lift my heavy eyelids. My gaze is rather fuzzy and I'm really disorientated.

Before I can string my thoughts together the sound of a single bullet being shot pierces through the silence around me.

A pair of puffy,bloodshot brown pleading eyes stare straight up at me pleading, begging.

They belong to a scrawny, ill-looking teenage boy. His skin is pale and beads of sweat trickle down his forehead.

His clothes are tattered and torn, like those of a homeless person and they're extremely baggy , demonstrating how overly sized they are.

"P-please, don't kill me. I'll get you the money!" He begs from the kneeling position he is in, looking truly pathetic.

His breath reeks of alcohol and smoke blended with multiple types of pot and crack.

No matter how hard he begs, it doesn't affect me. I feel no sorrow or empathy for this low life, just disgust and repulse.

He tries to reason with me, that he'll get the money for the drugs he bought from us, but these losers are all the same. As soon as you turn a blind eye they run for the hills. It always ends the same way, but it just involves more effort on my behalf.

So what's the point in giving him an extension. All I'd be doing is prolonging his death and wasting time, by killing him it would be doing us both a favour.

I chuckle at my thoughts, a low, deep laugh, void of any and all emotion.

The boys eyes immediately droop and realisation crosses his face. He drops his pleading hands, and bows his head for a moment.

He looks up again, tears streaming down his bony cheekbones and opens his mouth to say something.
The only problem is, I'm already bored with this dude and can't be bothered to listen to whatever crap he has to say.

I've never a fan of those cliché 'last words' things that always happens in books.
Sure I've had my fair share of amusement and drama before killing a victim, but I slowly grew out of it.

When I was a young lad, just starting off with my...career, I would always 'play' with my prey first, but slowly i got bored of it. I realised there was no point, so as I matured I stopped with the 'small talk'.

This occasion was rather strange, guess I must have been pretty bored to actually let him talk.

Anyways... this boy wasn't amusing me enough and my boredom only increased.

And so I killed him.

His corpse collapsed at my feet stirring up disgust inside me. I kicked him aside, treating him like a peice of shit on the bottom of my shoe: then again to me that's exactly what he was to me.
A look of distaste crossed my face and I stalked off  to get into my car leaving the body in the middle of a dingy alleyway.

The thought of what just happened did not cause me discomfort, nor did it evoke a feeling of pride or comfort.

I simply didn't care that I had just taken the life of what a fifteen/sixteen year old boy who had his whole life ahead of him.

The only thing I felt was annoyance at him for being such a waste of time.

Immediately shock washes over me as the previous scene replay in my head.

All of a sudden I hear more gunshots.

More screams.

I see more terrified eyes on pleading faces.

Faces of young and old men and women of all shapes and sizes.

Each face different, each voice diverse from the previous.

The bullets, screams and cries echo in a circle around me, and are permanently etched in my mind.

I try to stop it.

But I can't.

I bury my face in my hands and drop to my knees, willing for the trauma to stop.

Eventually, gunshots are the only thing that can be heard, and everything else has died out.

Two more minutes, and nothing can be heard, seen or felt. Darkness envelops me and I relish in the temporary bliss of nothingness.

I go to open my eyelids when a familiar smell pollutes my nostrils.

The scent of thick blood hangs in the air and I look down to my side, to check the wound on my ribs that I forgot about from before.

I wipe it and look at my stained fingertips.

A flash appears before me and I turn quickly to observe thousands of rotting corpses scattered across the ground.

There's so many.

They're all covered in blood, some dry and crusty, others sill have it oozing from their shattered sculls.

Every body reeks, and the repulsive smell churns up vomit in my stomach.

I crawl back trying to put some distance between me and these deformed figures, when I crash into yet another dead corpse.

I stare at its figure, clothed in an expensive black suit. It's hair is jet black, and the body's skin is a tanned olive shade.
On its tanned wrist is a familiar looking, matte silver-grey Rolex watch.

I glance down at my wrist to see an identical watch on an identical skin tone.

Unease stirs in my gut, and slowly I go to turn the corpse's head.

I shove it sideways to find a pair of dull grey eyes staring back at me.

I stare into the eyes and my fears are confirmed.

Blankly I stare at the my dead body, perplexed.

As if it senses my confusion, the corpses lips move.

"You did this to yourself, by killing all of those innocent people." It speaks, and I'm completely dumbfounded.

"I don't even know any of these people!" I retaliate.

"So? That's not important, what's important here is... did you kill those people?" The dead man says and I'm still confused by the situation.

I'm completely shocked, but I can't articulate a response.

As I tangle up in my thoughts I realise all the corpses have disappeared, including my own...

It was just a hallucination, must be the blood loss... I try to convince myself.

None of that was real...

No matter how hard I try to convince myself, the question still lingers at the back of my mind.

Was it real? Did I kill those people?

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Author note: Thanks for reading guys (if anyone's actually reading).

Just a quick question, I was wondering if you thought the chapters were too long/short or if they were ok? This one was about 2000 words, but on average they are about 1500-1700. Feel free to comment and give your opinion, it would be very helpful...

Thank you!

Don't forget to comment and vote, I hope you enjoy reading!👍