Aᴘʀɪʟ 11, 2019.
Alessia is now on her feet, watching with wide eyes, her mother slip down Sebastian's body to her knees, before he steps back and she tilts sideways and falls heavily to the mosaic tiles of the kitchen. As blood begins to pool around her head, the crowd of men stands motionless and quiet for what seems like a long time, watching their boss stare blankly at the dead woman. Unconsciously, his free hand sweeps over his clothed chest, where Anissa's finger had been tracing, before he finally swings around to them, whipping on a plastic grin.
"Debt paid, folks!" He beams, waving his hands. They say nothing, but are keen on the movement of his hand, with the gun he still hasn't put the safety back on on. "Oh...I knew I forgot something. How careless of me! She has a daughter." He snaps his fingers as if to say, 'darn it.'
Alessia backs up into the shadows, as his eyes flicker around the living room.
"Mateo," he points the Glock in a blonde guy's direction, causing him to wince, "Go find her for me. Heehee, this is going to be fun!"
As Mateo nimbly walks away, the other men stand alert at the look in Sebastian's eyes. They can't read it, but they know something is off. He's bleeding inside out, that's what's wrong. He doesn't know why. He holds the untrained gaze of a confused psychopath, a ticking time bomb is he. A psychopath doesn't have untrained eyes and is never confused.
Correction: should never be.
Alessia disappears into her room, knowing well that downstairs is not an option and quietly, she hides herself in her closet, like any typical twelve year old. But, she isn't any typical twelve year old. Alessia prances out of the closet, light on her feet, and enters the bathroom, locking the door behind her with a different motive.
If they found her in the closet, they'd take her alive. She has experienced their behaviour before, but to her, they held back because her mother was around. What would they do to her now? She doesn't want to know. She'd rather die.
The young girl, covered in scars and bruises, starts throwing open drawers and cabinets, only to huff in despair.
. . .well, shit. Her bathroom doesn't have any pills, or anything dangerous. Her mother made sure of that. She might have been abusive, regarding drugs, but she at least new how to keep her daughter alive and fed properly. That right now, isn't coming in handy. Shit, shit, shit, she grips the ends of her hair, before her eyes fall on the bathtub. She gulps, thinking, 'it'll have to suffice.'
Moving as swift as ever, she plugs the drain and turns on both pipes: the top and the bottom. Impatiently watching the liquid gather around her feet. It seems to be going so slow, she turn the handles quickly, harder and it breaks. Water starts gushing out.
The tub fills; her heart pounds, so does the approaching footsteps of a man, getting closer to her room door. Mateo enters her room, gun swinging in all directions, before he zones in on the sound of rushing water.
He barges into the bathroom, breaking the lock, just as Alessia flies up out of the pool of water that had just seeped into her nostrils. It hurts.
Now, it's a staring match between the two.