WHITE LION'S POV
A FEW WEEKS AGO
LOVE.
It was something that I never envisioned myself being entrapped in.
Women, romance, booze, they were never really my thing.
I was not the type of guy that wanted the high, except on few occasions when It was pertinent, and even on those occasions I do nothing more than inhale the choking smell of smoke as I puffed it out, from weed, from cigar, depending on how down I feel and how persistent my demons were.
The haze soothed me when my mind went haywire maybe after a much violent job. I would imagine my demons choking on it. It was the only high I knew.
If there was anything I learnt from my dad it was how to be level headed. Sanity was strength and to lack it weakness. I needed my sanity always. Clarity was most needed in my line of business.
To everyone it looked like I had It all in order, my life, the gang, all well planned out, but I knew better. Now, I was confused, and shattered, and I felt fear.
All these emotions had always been there, but I used violence and death to subdue them till I stopped feeling them all together. But now I do, I feel all these strangling emotions.
Mira has turned me inside out with her eyes and outside in with her words. She was fire, the kind that caused you to melt down, yet sent a chill down your spine until you feared breath.
She was the light that mixed with your darkness. The light that was poking holes in my darkness and right now I wanted to drown the memories of it.
I wanted to lose my cool and absorb myself in the immense pain I was feeling for being such a reckless, disgusting person.
A person who couldn't get a woman as pure as Mira to love him without hatching plans and schemes because he was so filthy and his filthiness didn't even begin with him.
Sometimes I felt like the violence was in my blood. That I was born with it but now I knew and felt otherwise. I had inherited this because I wanted to. I didn't have much of a choice but I did have options and I chose to be just like my father.
God!
I could only hope that I do not subject Mira to the same fate as my mum.
Never in my life had I ever felt insecure. I was perfect; in looks, in mind in wisdom in everything, but right now as I looked at the hideous scar on my face I could not help but feel a certain disdain wash through my veins. A disdain for myself for the kind of life I lived.
The Scars on my face created by make up just showed the highlight of my life. Made up courage, made up perfection even though inside I was drowning. My demons were strong and fertile, they grew each night.
Demons from my mothers death, demons from the death I had caused with my own hands, demons here, demons there legions of them and the one Angel, the one single light that God had decided to give to me in his infinity Mercy I had prepared to destroy with my own mind.
I clenched my fist and like a robot I found my way into my office. I needed a drink. I needed to drown my sorrows, my pains and sufferings in something just as toxic as the feeling In my chest.
I walked hazily to the bar at the left side of my office feeling grateful to Marcus for always insisting that I kept wine in my bar even when He knew that I didn't drink.
Maybe he had seen ahead of me. He had seen a day where I would just want to blank out. To end all the feelings inside of me.
I opened the bar tugging gently at the glass door and took for myself a bottle of Whiskey.
Taking a glass cup I walked over to the my table and slumped on the chair as I poured myself a glass to fill.
I downed a glass of wine again and again, filing it up every time but it never succeeded in numbing my feelings.
I felt so helpless. My heart was racing heart in my chest, I couldn't even breathe.
In anger and frustration I threw the glass over at the wall and screamed out in frustration. I felt so much anger, so much pain it was blinding, in-exhaustive. I wanted to kill something, someone and the only person that deserved to die by my hands now was Ken.
I buried my head in my hands willing myself to calm the fuck down. The last thing I wanted was to draw attention to my pain. My men were beginning to question my strength and I could not afford that.
I could not afford to show weakness.
.