✾Brief Author's Note✾
My female MC's 11 years old in this chapter. Happy reading!
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Eight years ago...
I was seething.
Perhaps that's why I did what I did next.
I killed him.
Someone snorted beside me. "Fantasising about killing him again, Emily?"
I sighed, squinting against the glare of the noonday sun as I shifted on the springy grass so that I was facing my best friend, Luna D'Agosto. "As if," I denied with a huff, "I haven't thought about him since... since. He doesn't deserve a mental killing from me--because that'd be me thinking about him."
I thought about him always.
So far, I've killed him five hundred times.
Mentally, of course.
Luna released a short laugh. "Whatever you say, Em." She sounded unbelieving.
My eyes narrowed on her, then faced the object of my homicidal thoughts.
Vasili.
I and my family had recently relocated from Miami to Russia two months ago. They'd said it was safer here. Weird.
Anyways, I didn't question their decision because it'd have been left unanswered. I supposed it had something to do with 'territories'. I had heard my father say that much over the phone concerning our moving to Russia.
And so far, I was trying my best to adjust to the new environment.
But someone just had to be a dignified obstacle in my progress.
The obstacle was currently sitting by himself, alone. Giving off the impression he was a quiet, unassuming angel.
Wrong.
He was a... what was the word again. Yes, he was a dyavlo. A huge one.
His glacier blue eyes met mine and I sucked in a sharp breath, cursing myself for reacting in anyway to the little twerp.
His face, which had previously been frozen in a countenance of humility and boredom, now contorted into a devilish expression.
His eyes glinted with mischief, and a promise of so many hair pullings and deliberate trippings to come.
Mine glinted, too, with a promise of many face smashings to come.
We had begun a silent game, and it seemed to have two singular rules. Whoever cried off first or tattled on the other for bullying was the loser.
I hated loosing.
And so did he, l was coming to realize.
But, we had been at this game for two months, and it had started to wear on me. So I was going to do the next best thing; back out.
I wasn't crying off, mind you. After all, all was fair in love and war.
Not that I... loved him or anything.
Ew.
As Luna stood to go over to her mother I sucked in a slow breath. This was my chance.
I stomped my way across the field in the open park and over to the stone bench he sat on.
"It's over," I declared once I came to stand before him.
His hand slowly went up to his chest, an amused smile playing on his lips. "You don't say," he began, imitating my accent. "How am I supposed to live knowing w--"
"Shut it!" I snapped, his brows rose. "I'm not playing your stupid game anymore."
Something dark dawned in his eyes and a slow smile stretched his lips to the side. "Oh, Marena," he said lowly, his stupid Russian accent thick, "you do not simply stop playing a game, especially when it is mine. You either win. Or loose."
I glowered at him, wanting so badly to wipe the smirk off his face. Using my elbow.
But none of those things happened. Because months later, his brother did.
I hadn't even known he had one. . . until he was murdered.
It was rumored my father had been responsible.
