"On your knees bitch"
They had me by my hair, pulling my head back wards towards the heavens. There were five of them all large men wielding guns and all Italian Mafioso. They had me in a dark alley somewhere in South Boston, no one for miles I reckon.
I'd been running from them for years. My father had made deals with the Italian mafia. I had never known the specifics of the deal, but I do know that my father never met his end of the deal. He and my mother were killed in our home. Both had been placed on their knees, heads pulled backwards and a gun poised, cocked and fired to the back of their skulls.
I was 19 hiding in a closet. I saw it all. I escaped by a hair and have been running since.
So here I am. Head pulled back by the hair, on my knees, five men around me one with a gun to my head. They're all snarling, with a look of pure pride and satisfaction. They finally caught me. These men get to go back to Yakavetta smirks on their faces and claim they were the ones who finally got me. Finally put a bullet into little Francesca Sullivan finally tied up the loose end that had been running around the states in means to escape them for five years.
I honestly can't say I wasn't ready for this. After running for years it's kind of a relief to know I don't have to run anymore. I put up a good fight I never surrendered and I could die with dignity.
"I accept from Your hands this be my means of death
if it does please You to send me to this night
with all its pains, penalties and sorrows;
in reparation for all of my sins.
In Gods name , Amen"
Under my breath I whispered a prayer of acceptance, I was ready. No more ready to die then at this second.
Cold iron to the back of my skull.
I let my eyes shift to the night sky, I would not let these mens faces be the last thing I see.
Gun poised, click, gun cocked.
I was ready.
Initial bang sounded, was I dead?
Four more shots rang out, I can't be dead. One shot would have done away with me. My head no longer being held back slumped forwards and rested on my chest. I stayed on my knees slumped but still upright. Why was I not dead? My ears were ringing, my breath was shallow and I felt faint.
I wasn't alone, that I knew. But all my bravery was used up in the acceptance of my death and my situation I just did not have the courage to raise my head and face what was currently the unknown.
I listened. Two people I could deduct were furiously moving around me, I suspect their picking up bullet shells. Dealing with evidence leaving no mark of their presence. I heard prayers being whispered, giving the dead their last rites. Maybe they'll just clean up and leave. I could only hope that if I stayed still they would leave me here, childish hope but hope all the same.
A hand touched my shoulder. Someone was crouched to my right.
" Ye think she's concious Murph?" A distinctly male and heavily accented voice inquired.
A hand came to my chin and I became aware of another man crouched infront of me. Pressure was gingerly applied and my face raised for inspection. A tear leaked from beneath my lashes.
"Aye, lass your in good 'ands now. Open yer eyes" Again male and Irish.
Drawing in a shaking breath I decided these men friendly, they'd saved me. Gaining courage I opened my eyes and stared straight into the blue eyes, they seemed worried but trustworthy.
The man smiled and I unceremoniously and very stereotypically fainted.
AN
My first chapter of my first story. I would love reviews and suggestions ashow to better the story, but do not expect them. Next update will come as soon as I'm done so within the week.
-Rankin