Remember The Name

My mother is dead.

My father is dead.

My sister is dead.

My brother is dead.

I’m alive. Broken. Revengeful.

Five Years Later:

I adjusted my expensive sunglass, smoking as I inhale the cigarette aroma filling up my nose. I watched the scene through the camera in front of me as my men brutally ambushed the old man in front of me.

I whistled, signaling one of the servants to pour more whiskey in my glass. I grinned maliciously when the man bowed to me, his hands shaking when he poured the whiskey. I raised the glass to my lip, drowning myself into the intoxicating flavor and burn.

The servant stood in front of me politely and something wicked came up in my head. I sat up from my chair and pushed the man away to open the DARKROOM.

“Get the fuck out of here! I will handle this motherfucking coward!” I bellowed, shooting the bullet in the air, my men scurrying out like rabbits.

The coward was tied up, bruised all over his body, blood leaking from his shirt. He was shivering, teeth clattering while he rocked the chair back and forth.

I walked around him, my hand clenching the whiskey glass. I examined his battered-up body, proud of the work my men created, but it wasn’t enough for me.

“Ma’am, please spare. I’m-I’m-I’m sorry, s-s-sorry, sorry. I-I-I have kids. Please-” the coward stuttered, spitting blood out his mouth while he kept rocking back and forth.

I shrugged, not giving a fly fucking shit and pushed the chair, his head colliding hard on the marble tiles. The coward let out a whimper and tried to push himself up, but too weak to do so.

I kneel down, facing eye-level with him. I pulled his short, sweaty hair back to look at me. Fear was evident in his eyes and I love that.

“Coward, that’s who you are. That’s what I call you. Should’ve thought better before messing with me, you coward.” I whispered to him.

Coward gulped, opening his mouth to speak. “Please, Deysha, don’t do this.”

I laughed bitterly, my hands tugging his hair roughly causing him to scream in pain. “Oh Coward, before I was ma’am to you. Now I’m Deysha. You don’t live the opportunity to call me by my street name since you don’t respect me. Call me Deshaya, coward. Remember the name ’cause after all, you will be dying.” The whiskey glass I was holding was thrown on his face and burning his wounds. I step back, relishing the sounds of his piercing scream and his inability to move.

“I won’t kill you. Not with my hands. You should’ve thought about your family before you stole my drugs. The temperature will be high. So high it will burn you and remember my name, Coward: Deshaya Melli De La Silva.”

I watched one final time, his eyes pleading and begging as he watched me changed the temperature.

Never fuck with Deshaya Melli De La Silva. Remember the name.