| E M E L I A N A |
:: 3 months ago ::
Blood.
There was so much blood.
The man laid of the floor, a small smoking hole in his forehead and his eyes half open. The puddle of crimson behind his head was fast growing and stained the cream carpet with every second that past.
Joe Florencio looked at my father with a bit of surprise, but overall anger and confusion as to why his trusted business partner just shot one of his men right in the head. This is why I never liked accompanying father to his business meetings. There was always a possibility of something bad happening. And with the kind of luck I had, something always did go wrong.
The sound of my father's gun firing rung in my head, leaving a low uncomfortable humming noise in my ears. I turned to my father to see that his expressio
