The Gentiles

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Abe

I’m not a very patient person.

Alright, the word doesn’t even exist in my vocabulary. So why am I waiting here outside the girl’s restroom like a fucking idiot for my stupid little cousin?

I most definitely scared the shit out of her in class. I don’t blame her. I knew I frightened the little nymph almost all the time that we were together.

I hated going to family shit, even more so when baba died, but I kept on attending because I wanted to see her.

She was naive, fragile. It was fun messing around with her. Seeing her deep blue eyes dilate behind those thick dorky lenses brings me satisfaction.

That look was only for me.

My god, those eyes.

She wanted to fight back and before, she actually used to but something had changed in the way she regarded me and I have no fucking clue why.

It just happened one day when I felt her guard up when in the same room with me, I felt her become even more conscious than she previously was.

I enjoyed bickering with her when we were kids and maybe it’s because we were getting older that I felt like she became cautious around me.

She’d still have smart comebacks whenever I provoke her but it was hard to miss her being wary of me. It pissed me off at first but like I said, maybe it was just because of the fact that we were growing up.

The one thing I could always rely on being a constant thing that I love about her was the fire in her eyes.

If I’m not careful, that shit would be the death of me.

What the hell was taking her so long?

She wasn’t one who fussed about the way she looked, that much was obvious. Her round face was always bare except for those prescription glasses that she’d worn since she was seven, slightly obscuring the freckles that pepper her pink cheeks and elegant ski slope nose.

Every time I saw her unkempt golden hair, all I wanted to do was tangle my fingers on them and pull until I could hear her high-pitched feminine shriek.

That’d teach her to comb her shoulder length mane.

Not that she doesn’t look divine with such a bed head but it pisses me off for thinking that her hair was in fact akin to that of someone who just had been fucked.

It was a joy I got the recessive trait of dark hair than the signature blonde ones very indicative of my relatives.

People had always regarded me as the black sheep of the otherwise golden church-going family. From my looks to my attitude and the way I had been leading my life, there was no denying that I was the odd man out.

If it weren’t for my blue eyes and some similar features, I’d think I was adopted. It sure as hell looked like it when I was out with my family. I was the only one who had a frown on his face, the only one among the kids sulking. Couple that with my hair color and I indeed had all the makings of a black sheep.

Picture our whole family who all had blonde heads except me.

Yeah, fan-fucking-tastic.

Not that it bothers me, anyway. It used to but now, it just doesn’t carry the same power over me because I have finally made something of myself.

It wasn’t good but it was out of my own accord, at least and I’d choose that any time of any day than forcing myself to be the same as the rest of my family.

My phone vibrated in my pocket which made me let out a curse.

Fucking Leana.

Remind me again not to fuck a single girl for more than a month.

Apparently, it only took that short of a time for people to form attachment, something I did not ever want from anyone. And that’s never gonna change. No matter how pretty you look, how huge your tits are or how good of a fuck you are, nothing could make me commit. A fact that this dimwit girl refused to see.

One of the reasons I was ecstatic moving homes was that it takes me farther away from Leana. She knew where I lived, knew where I went to school to, so moving here was a a fucking blessing in disguise.

The only person I told where I’d be moving was my man Carter and it wasn’t out of goddamned affection. It was a necessity.

Being new to the clan, heck, being the youngest member to be recruited, they needed assurance that I wouldn’t run. That I wouldn’t talk.

It wasn’t like I haven’t just proven myself to them again and again for the past two years. Not that I had just done my first kill for them two months ago.
I had the urge to punch myself in the face.

My fucking weakness was the reason I got drunk on a single girl for far longer than I intended to and when I broke things up with her, she was far too deep into her emotions and shit she wouldn’t just give up.

Hell, I even threw the other girls I fucked after in her face and she still wouldn’t budge.

That’s the thing I hate the most.

People’s delusions about them carrying a power to change me.

Just because I was weak to fuck around with other girls during one low point doesn’t mean some kind of epiphany had washed down over me.
I
Leana knew there was more than what I showed on the surface and when at first she was cool about it, her insistence on knowing soon came out of the surface and it got worse and worse that I finally decided that the trouble isn't worth it anymore. So I bolted.

And thank my fucking piece of hit of a father for deciding this was the perfect time to relocate.

I would’ve done it sooner, if I were him, especially when my mom caught him fucking his secretary when she brought him lunch one fine April.

Try as I might, I couldn’t just forget how that day went down and I hate myself everyday for being the pussy that I am when it comes to remembering it.

A thud made me look up the closed bathroom door and my gut clenched in a dreadful anticipation.

The feeling of holding a gun with both hands, carefully trudging an empty warehouse as silently as my feet could manage, washed over me.

I didn’t think.

I rushed into the bathroom and what I saw made my blood boil.
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