"Kill him," came a simple command and my glossy eyes protrudes like from my skull.

An instinct suddenly ignites within me and I'm launching myself upwards, imbalanced and still fear stricken my legs wobbles down the steps missing the last two. I come down hard, face first on the wooden floor. to my dismay my nose and forehead breaks my fall, I hear a crack and my nose numbs out.

Pain instantly follows coming down like a bag of bricks, a pounding headache makes my vision double watching a purple like color cloud around behind my eyes until I was able to finally come in tune with my surroundings.

Slowly rising my head as the space like color fades, not before it leaves a galaxy of bright stars to swirl about. In the midst of it through a blurry fog I am met with what appears to be polished leather black shoes. My Pupils finally align after a deep squint bringing the color with it, a smell of rust makes my eyes water.

Liquid oozes from my nose as I peer up to a crouched man hunching above me. A nightmare coming to life as he looks at me with a deadly glare.

"What the fuck is this?" He seethes darkly. Foul smell of tobacco on his breath as if he eats cigarettes for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

I whimper softly, mentally punching myself while going over the seconds prior that brought me here. What just happened and how? where was my common sense?

"Do you speak English you little rat?" The man continued. Leaning his face downwards to me.

There was A feeling on my right side. Aggressively the other man with the blood trickling down his mouth uses his shoe to prod at me, Roughly shoving at me until I was on my back.

"A child." He smiles, blood stained teeth adds onto the menace in his demeanor. The reason its there is sinister enough.

The crouched man rises, bald head and eyes sneak in my view as I stare at the moldy ceiling Chest heaving dangerously, and I swallow the blood from my nose to not choke. Shriveling with fear as the men above look down at me intently.

"He has a child." one of the men out of view huffs. "Just as filthy as his father."

The room rumbles with their laughter at my expense.

"Ahhh" I cry out, long nails graze my scalp as a patch full of my hair is gripped, harsh force nearly tearing off my my skin in the process. I'm lifted from my back and sat on my bottom, impact from earlier leaves me highly sensitive to the beams of the kitchen light, eyes misconducting until a harsh grip under my chin forces my head to be still, looking ahead of me.

Figures, strange large figures. One was slouched and the other appeared to be immobile; Lifeless. I squint deeply ignoring the sharp pain shooting at my brain in response. My jaw tears in two at the scene; rusty smell of blood syncing in with the foul odor of poor hygiene, the gory scene forces a thick bile to rise from my stomach.

Deformed and broken, breasts sliced off, her jaw hanging just by a small piece of flesh from her lips. Blood surges from the missing part of her ear. The whore lays lifeless in her own pool of blood. Beside her sits my father, eyes socket blue and swollen, only the flutter if his lashes allows me to breathe cooly. He is still alive, miraculously, yet barely. Half his head peeled away skull fractures leave an opening to his brain I witness it moving before chunks of blood leak from the bone,.

Though sickened by the gruesome display I couldn't look away questioning the scene. The blood from his skull leaks madly but it dries at his round belly, why is there a pool of blood around him? it was than I looked in between his legs; cleany sliced off organ and the bruising of his purple testcials.

Acid flies out of my throat accidentally landing on the trousers of the man in all black, he roars in disgust. Flames light up on his pupils and one of his legs fly across my face. My brain wiggles inside and I watch the room spin with speed before my cheeks collided with the wall.

Instant booming laughter helps me fight back to consciousness.

"Ugh, he is just like his father. Filthy pigs." He spends the rest of his time bickering in the background going on about he will mount my head on a Christmas tree.

Too frail to react and too disoriented to properly acknowledge the fear.

"Hang on," one of them say sluggishly. Everything happens in slow motion as one of the figures approaches me in my peripheral vision. Despite my light headedness I wheezed trying to Scoot away, digging my back into the wall.

"How old do you think he is?" One of the identical men spoke. Soon after they all glanced to me.

The curious gaze in his eyes as he examines my body, a question like that isn't spoken out of genuine curiosity. It isn't a concern for my well-being seeing as though I'm a mere child that was just roundhouse kicked by a significantly large adult male. This question was Hinting towards something more sinister and by the gleam in his eyes as it lingers on my torso, I'd say my hunch was correct.

"Twelve?"

"No, thirteen." They debated.

"Why do you ask?"

A smile stretched across his face as he spews the very words I thought, "Imagine how much this little runt would be worth in stocks."

The idea piqued their interest, dollar signs carved on their pupils.

"Hmm, he's too skinny. But his brain however, that could run for millions, hopefully he isn't mental."

The dollar sign soon vanished from their eyes hearing the statement, disinterest begins to creep in.

"He probably is, he ran down here as if he is some hero." One of the twins laughed.

"Who were you trying to save boy?" The one crouched before my questions.

I winced from that name, too familiar to the way my father would growl it to me.

"That man there?" He points towards my father. Knuckles stained with dried blood and chunks. "He isn't worth a dime" he chuckles.

His other hand digs into his pocket, pulling out a folded napkin stained with blood, "look at this he taunts" unfolding the napkin letting me peer down to what looks the cut off organ of my father's genitals. Shrunken, tip hidden in the foreskin. My jaw agape's watching it slightly twitch as if it had a mind of its own.

Stifling a laugh. "You father runs around proudly with this little shrimp"

Purposely he brings it too close to me, the napkin touching my lips before I shrieked jerking my head away. The movement was too hastily bringing back the lightheaded feel.

"Gross man."

"What?" He retorts. "Someone would buy this." He defends stuffing the genital Back into his pockets. Their conversation fades out to me, it was as if my brain was going in circles constantly putting me in and out of a gaze. Liquid still oozes from my nose painting my shirt.

"Hey kid?" Blood-stained fingers punch my cheeks forcing me to look into his eyes. Out of all of them, his green orbs were the most innocent.

But a sheep in wolves clothing.

Genuinely he smiles at me, "We're going to kill your dad, ok?"

I'm paralyzed by the words.

"We're going to break your father's skull open" He cheeses. "And then when were done. Our friends will buy it and whatever they do with it will be entirely up to them."

The black market. It becomes clear now; These were the men I shouldn't be entangled with. I could suddenly hear the warnings of the King in my head.

The name these men go by, Mafia. Every one of them enveloped in Darkness, blood thirst in the eyes. However, there was still one missing, the one voice that stood out more powerfully than the others, the one that commanded to kill my father. That must be the leader.

It was true as they say, it's easier to watch from someone else's point of view. I grew up knowing about the men that lurked in the shadows and how merciless they are to
People trapped by them. Rumors of how the victims can end up dismembered, eyes gouged out and every single one of your teeth plucked from the gum, like flower petals.

It was still easier to hear about the stories and move onto the next, but now here I sit, right before the lions themselves, a mere prey that'll soon be shredded to pieces. But first to watch my father getting his brain separated from his skull.

"Oh?" The man sings amusingly. "What is this?" He taunts garnering everyone's attention back to me.

"What?" The man with the Frankenstein scar asks, still distastefully glaring at me.

"I just told him his father is going to die and yet not even a burst of tear or any hint of sadness." He chuckles.

I have cried thousandths of tears by him alone, Starved and beaten like some animal, and nearly used for his gain. Feared him so much I ridded the only person that granted me happiness, losing her was a pain even now I couldn't stand, along with my brother and mother.

"How about this -" he taunts, "We're going to kill him in two different ways." With agility he pulls out an object from his suit pants. A loud clicking noise before he brings that strange object to my face.

"One will be with this here, I call him bob."

Thick chuckling in the background, though faint it was still grave.

He maneuvers the object continuously; clicking, shifting and glorifying it like a medal. An instinct in my gut moves my head away every time the barrel of it faces me. I haven't a clue of what it is, but if it is he who wields it than it something for sure life threatening.

"See, this little guy here is great and all but he is just too quick for my liking, for what your father has done boy, were going to be bringing out this." His head moves out of my view, when I couldn't fully turn my head his jaw clenched, bloodied knuckles forcefully grip my curly strands twisting my head to the scene.

Like I said, A sheep in wolves clothing.

The man with the resemblance pulls something from behind the flipped couch, an end of what looks like a baseball bat; polished wood shimmers under the light of the kitchen until it fully emerges. Anxiety in my nerves set my veins on fire, it was no ordinary baseball bat, at the very large end of it were rusted nails punctured through it. Whimpers escape my lungs and I shake violently staring at the rod, multiple spiky nails stuck. Few bent but all stained with dried blood.

"Oh," the man chuckles, "Scared?" he whispered into my ear. "Good, be fucking scared."

Playfully the man holding it swings it around as if some light object for show and tell.

"Watch where you are swinging that man."

My father on the ground fighting to stay conscious, head wobbling uncoordinatedly, nearly succumbing to his blood loss. The strain from my head disappears and I fall to my palms, up the man walks from me heading for the bat itself. "I didn't introduce you to the other one." he says. poking softly the end of the spikes as it if testing out the sharpness.

"This one here is razor. I'm sure you can get the idea why he's named that way so no need to explain." he winked. The rest of the men stand aside allowing him the spotlight. "This guy here gets the job done and right now I choose him." he cheesed crouching down to bring it to my father's face.

Worry begins envelop me.

My father catches sight of the deadly object, whimpers leave his throat as he tries to back away, gurgling sounds of him trying to plead with words.

"Too late for pleads." the man chuckle lowly, rising to position his hands together at the end, "Watch and learn kid." The bat is raised to an angle.

The man in all black grunts, "Uh wait let me move out the way, I am always stained with filth."

A small distraction allowing me to clear my head space, I'd be lying if I told myself I wasn't afraid, my father's life was truly a pathetic one indeed and his motives for abusing his own child will be rot in his memories forever. But where would that lead me in life? no family, no friends, just an unwanted orphan; doomed for a life on the streets and would be lucky enough to survive long enough to fulfill my rightful place by Tiana.

I must hold on, hold onto the only bloodline I have left. The bat rises to the air closing in on my father's face. As silent as a shark my legs force upwards without a sound, my speed is as quick as a cheetah's launching myself to close enough to grab onto the man's leg, A strength I didn't know I possessed shoves him off balance and he nearly topples over.

I could have stopped there but I saw red and bit down into his leg, loud roars rumble throughout his whole body vibrating my teeth. How dare they? how dare they try and take away the last family member I had left, I'm twirled around, my forehead receiving blows but I don't let go, driven by the anger they terrorize the streets, snatching and killing reeking havoc amongst everyone.

"Hit him with the bat!" the man commands, I can taste the iron on my tongue, it seeps through the pant leg, raw taste of blood on my tongue gliding down my throat, the new taste weakens my grip and I am pulled by the hair, thrown forcefully to the floor. Arm thankfully acting as a cushion coming between my temple and the shards of glass on the floor.

A bone breaking kick collides to my stomach gliding me across the floor.

"Fucking disgusting" I hear in the background, my teeth must have punctured through a sensitive nerve. Sharply he inhales through his teeth trying to adjust to the pain.

Numbed from the pain knotting in my stomach, I lay on the ground coughing and sputtering iron and acid from my stomach. As if the nerves itself were twisted, not even my hands could soothe the unbearable ache. It would seem I was forgotten as they tended to the man, could I make it out the door if I was quick enough? discreetly I'm testing the distance between myself and the door and the distance of the men behind me.

Maybe If I crawl gently I could make it. My mind was made up, using my elbows to lift myself, intestines ready to fall renerding me heavy and I resort to gliding. It was like pulling ankers.

Managing to slip behind the couch unseen when I paused to a shift in the darkness, outline of what shapes to be a dress shoe, deceived at first until A grave low chuckle of a man freezes my heart.

There was another one, body fully hidden in darkness watching the whole scene transpire. A massive outline of man sitting comfortably on a chair, ankle over knee The power he emanates is overwhelming and I shiver out of fear.

No point in looking further for a glimpse, he was submerged within. Yet the feel of his gaze on me was heavy, eyes breaking the amour i put forth.

Distracted too long, I'm jolted back by the fabric of my clothes, backwards beside the corpse of the whore.

"Where did he go?" one of them spoke in regards to my father.

Managing to slip away amidst the dirtaction my father was almost out he door, lying on his stomach, to weak to reach the doorknob when he was jolted back by the leg.

"I'm sick of this, let me do it." The one in all black roars, reaching for the bat.

In pleads for his life my father raises his palm in attempt to be spared but was out of luck when the end of the bat comes down on his thighs, Whole room vibrates from the roar in his throat, crying out in pain. The gashes of the needles rips open his flesh, painting the wall and ceiling with the crimson before it comes down again.

I'm hollow at the scene, splashes of blood paint my face in the process watching my father's flesh tear open.

"Oh wait look" one of the men laughs. "He is still alive." he chuckles.

Blankly I watch my fathers palm weakly rise to the air. As if he was trying to speak through the gurgling of his own blood.

"I think he wants to say something."

"Hmmm, maybe a last words to his dear old son?" one of the twins say, "Let him"

Despite the mans impatience he moves away, not even out breath. "Speak"

Unable to move, blood splurging from his thigh. My father's words are gargling before he was lifted upright to face me, broken finger pointing upwards, right ot me.

"He-he is f-friends with the Princess."