Page 167 of Rome: The Ballerina

When close enough, I grabbed her chin, opening her mouth. I jammed the gun inside. The sound of it colliding with her teeth brought me joy. Those pretty eyes were wide with shock. Her limbs stiffened. She was frozen in shock. Unsure of what to do. How to feel. Or where this ended.

“But, before I let them scrap my child from my womb, your parents will be scrapping you from your bedroom floor.”

Blow.

Her head slammed into the wall.

“Bitch.”

Blood splattered on my face, forcing my eyes closed. In an instant, I felt lighter. Relief washed over me. My heart beat slowly. My stomach unknotted for the first time in three days.

I exhaled, releasing a shaky breath. The fear I anticipated failed me. The regret I anticipated never found me. I kneeled in front of a lifeless Aliza with pride cruising through my veins.

Slowly, I removed the gun from her mouth and shoved it back in the pocket of my jacket, never releasing the handle. I pulled my hoodie further over my head while stepping over the mess she’d created as she mourned the crown that had been placed on my head tonight.

I stepped into the hallway, sure to close the door behind me. With my head low and my eyes on the ground, I began to whistle a familiar tone.

My lover’s got humor.

She’s the giggle at a funeral.

Knows everybody’s disapproval.

Should’ve worshiped her sooner.

I pressed the button, summoning the elevator. It took its precious time. I wasn’t in a hurry.

Aaaaa–

Amen.

Fireworks erupted in the distance, bringing a smile to my face. The timing was perfect. My man was bringing home the ring. Clarke Vultures had secured the championship.

Ding.

The elevator opened. I stepped in, head still low. I pressed the L with my elbow and leaned against the steel.

Amen.

Amen.

Take me to church.

My eyes closed briefly. There was so much happening inside of me. Still, I pushed wind through my lips. The elevator stopped at the first floor of the building. I made my way through the lobby.

I’ll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife.

Offer me that deathless dead.

Oh good God,

Let me give you my life.

I exited the automatic doors, stepping onto the pavement again. My lips were still pursed, only making room for a small hole that high-pitched sounds exited.

Run.

Run, Rome.

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