Live For It

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simon hafez-pacetti

S.H.P.

{THIRD PERSON}

The boy ran through the dark streets of "underground" Italy. 

His t-shirt was soaked in the blood that clung to his skin. Blood that wasn't his. 

He breathed hard and rapidly, checking over his narrow, boney shoulders. The haze his mind was trapped in didn't do him any good for his sight. He could barely focus on the figure chasing after him as his head spun. 

His mother had always warned him to stay away from this side of town. Being born in the depths of Columbia taught his older brothers and sisters that already. They were fortunate enough to escape the violence, refugeeing to a home only a mile away from where he was at this second. 

Little did they know, you cannot escape this type of war.

"Pequeño robo!" the man behind him raged as he ran. (little theft)

Tears pricked the boy's blue eyes as his skin blistered the faster he went. What was he going to do? 

Nobody was there to save him. 

The man kept screaming about a supposed 'boss' and how the child's sins would catch up to him. The boy hadn't met too many people who knew as much Spanish as that man. 

He turned a corner, shortly realizing it was a dead-end. 

He was barely seven, not even knowing what he wanted to be when he grew up. 

But he was old enough to come to terms with his fate. And before he could spend the last minutes of his life thinking of his future, something hard hit him over the back of the head. His small, frail body fell limp to the ground, but he saw the second figure walking towards them as his eyes closed permanently. 

"Non necessario," the second figure stated, walking towards the shop owner who stood over the dead boy. (not necessary)

The shop owner sucked in a sharp breath as he looked at Alphonzo Di Maggio, the boss who demanded more fear out of his actions than respect. 

"Leave him, I'll take care of the message," he said to the scared man. 

The man stood slowly, not knowing how to retreat from the situation like he was being preyed on by an animal. 

Within two seconds, the man was off, sprinting in the opposite direction, not once caring about the tiny bag of bread the little boy walked off with. 

He left Alphonzo alone with the small corpse, his worst mistake. 

{THIRD PERSON}

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Zhara stared up at Zion with wide eyes and parted lips, sucking in a quick apprehensive breath. She felt the gazes of the other men, making her skin prickle in distaste.

Zion looked at her with such disgust in his gaze that it actually caught her off guard, but it wasn't his time to get offended. 

Zhara lifted the maps in her hand, waving them with an unimpressed face. 

"I'm trying to figure out if all you do is lie, or if you actually know how to tell the damn truth," she snapped, ripping her wrist from his grasp like he was poison burning her flesh. Her tone affected him visibly, and his face immediately tensed in anger.