un·der·bel·ly
/ˈəndərˌbelē/
noun
A hidden unpleasant or criminal part of society.
"the dark underbelly of a ghetto"
"I do for me and mine how I see fit. Even if I have to wage war against everything in my path." His voice so powerful it felt like i...
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Killian Rubis Andrade London, U.K. Following Day
There was a pounding behind my eyes that woke me up, sunlight beamed through the blinds and I squinted adjusting to the light. My head aching every time my eyes opened, "What the fuck." I sat up slowly sitting against the headboard I looked down and I was wrapped in a towel.
The heels and dress from last night thrown across the floor, and I looked at the clock and it was midday. My mouth was dry and I felt dehydrated, I kept a bottle of water on my night stand grabbing it I chugged it. I looked around and saw the harrods bags on the floor as well, and smiled.
I had a great birthday, everyone coming together to celebrate me felt like a joyous occasion. And my last present of the night to top it off. Getting up to use the bathroom there was a pain in my tummy, and a soreness in my legs. Pushing past it I went to use the bathroom, to freshen myself up for the day.
I took a shower and got dressed, putting on my robe and my house slippers. My hair that was straighter last night, had reverted back to curly at some parts so I put it up in a bun and went to the kitchen.
Walking into the kitchen there was a large flower and fruit arrangement, and a card sat on the counter.
Happy Birthday K - L.Y.M
I laughed as I assumed the gift was from A2 and Wadz, a note side the card said the regular word business and it was signed by Cench. I got a nutrament from the fridge and settled on the couch, turning on the television I turned on National Geographic. I loved learning in my spare time.
This episode they featured the lynx cat of Asia, and it reminded me of Ameena. She loved learning about wild cats. Meena felt like the only real friend I had here in England. The fact that Wadz was her brother wasn't even something I could process last night. He must've been the older brother she didn't have much contact with, and now I wondered what she knew about him. How much she knew about him, shit did any of these mens families know who they really were.
Despite Wadz being the nicest out his bunch, was probably one of sickest ones as well. She mentioned to me he was financially responsible for all the major bills around her moms house; rent, utilities, food. Anything she wanted really he just was not around, and her mother was really hurt by his absence. She always felt like the spare child just there to help her mom get by emotionally. Feeling like her mom never really loved her but always really loved Wadz more, so much more she'd spend nights before going to sleep crying about her lost son.
I guess she held some resentment towards him, for having her bare the brunt of emotionally supporting your refugee parent. A parent that was already so mentally fragile missing everything they knew, leaving everything they knew suddenly.
There were ways I related to Ameena in that aspect, when my brother died I was spare child. The twin that was left over, she never healed from Declan and my dad and it quickly turned into neglect. She was frequently depressed and manic, I couldn't blame her. I don't blame her. I don't despise Declan either, he died; what could I do?
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I picked up the phone and texted Wadz, asking for Ameenas phone number. He called me, "What do you need her number for?" Cutting straight to the chase he inquired.
"Because she's my friend." I sounded as nice as possible, but it sounded like a question.
He sighed into the mic, "You aren't suppose to, you know."
"But I'm lonely, and I just sit here all day! You guys work a lot, and I can't—"
"Okay for Christ sakes-" I squealed and he groaned on the other end of the line. "Don't do anything stupid." He hung up, and moments later he sent me the number. I kicked my feet and sent her a text message.
The doors to the apartment clicked and I sat up and went to the door, it was most likely Oakley. He opened the door and stopped when he saw me, standing there with what looked like dried blood on his black clothing.
"Oh uh-"
"Just let me go shower." He cuts me off walking to his bedroom, leaving his bloody shoes at the door. I followed behind him up until he got to his room, not crossing the threshold as he never invited me in. Feeling defeated I went back to sit on the couch, and wait for him to be done.
A few moments after he came out of the room dress in shorts and no shirt, sitting far from me on the couch. We both sat in comfortable silence, he seemed upset so I didn't want to pry. BBC news sounded in the television, and they announced breaking news.
"BBC here with breaking news, the mangled body of Brittney Lancaster has been found in an alley way near a local night club in Shoreditch. We wait now as more news develops in this ongoing investigation." My heart thumped as the picture flashed across and it was the girl from the club. She caught him and I in the middle of our staged make out session, and after that work had been exceptionally difficult, including me being taken.
My gaze slowly shifted to Oakley, as he laid out on the couch calm as ever. The blood, the irritation. "Oakley." I simply stated.
His silence sent shivers down my spine, then the sound of him cleaning his teeth like a dad who didn't bother with toothpicks. Sitting up he shrugged, "Long day innit."
"What did you do?" Even though there was no one else here I looked around, lowering my voice.
"Just in, it is said that Brittney experienced extreme brutality. Her lungs and heart have been reported missing, other gruesome details to be confirmed through autopsy." The BBC news anchor announced, in an eerie way to answer my question.
The menacing look on his face as he watched the news unfold, was...sexy. I know it made me as sick as him, but there was nothing he did that wasn't arousing. I can only confidently say this now that I'm not on the opposite end of his loaded weapon but, if he did what I think he did; I'm in heat.
"Why'd you do it? What if it's traced back to you." Out of anxiety my leg began to bounce.
"I don't know what you're talking about." The coolness of his voice let me know he could play this game, and play it the long way.
I paused and looked at him, inching closer to him. "So you really want to lie to me right now? Do I look dumb to you?" Another pause when his eyes flicked up at me, a slight warning to not come any closer. A tremor ran down my spine at the icy look his brown eyes held.
"You're only here because you showed me you could shut the fuck up, so do me a favor. Apply that behavior now. Actually," He stood up, pointing to the back of the flat. "Go to your fucking room."
Oakley towered over me, and my anger bubbled over. "Ugh!" I stomped my foot, "I hate you." I nearly yelled as I quickly turned away from him to retreat to the room. It wasn't my room, I didn't want anything here.