One Year Ago
At the violent shake of my shoulder my eyes reluctantly opened to find my brother, hair damp and his blond-streaked strands drooping out of his quiff onto his forehead as he hovered above me. "Rem-"
"I'm okay," I interrupted before he could even begin. Though I knew it was because he cared, it was tiring being babied all the time. "Just restless, that's all." I ran a hand through my honey-hued hair to remove the sweaty strands from face as I pulled the duvet off of me, and slid out of bed. After I maneuvered around him I began walking, making my way to the kitchen.
His heavy foot steps notified me that he was hot on my trail, and his voice justified it. "Just restless, really? You need to come up with better excuses, Rem, 'cos just restless isn't working anymore. Talk to me, please."
"There's nothing to talk about. They're just nightmares-"
"Zayn," I raised a hand, cutting him off. "Everyone has nightmares, I'm no different. I know you care, but I'm fine, honestly." I told him and he nodded, though the look in his eyes said something different. "What are you dressed for?" I asked when I noticed his clothing choice, his comfortable pjs were replaced with a white tee, dark jeans, and boots.
"I was about to get you up anyway," He made a gesture to his watch, causing me to look from him to the black clock on the browning kitchen walls: 6:43 a.m. "We've gotta be in before 7:20- Get dressed, you've had two strikes this month. Get a third before the 1st of April, and that's your arse."
A little over twenty-five minutes later our rusty, red pickup truck pulled up in front of a dingy three-story semi-detached house. It didn't look like much from the outside, but that was the goal. People thought they were just passing an old, abandoned house but in reality- It was a misunderstood jewel.
Inside this building was money, and power- A way to beat the system using the black market, causing trade deceits by importing more than the government actually exported, and earning pounds, along with power in a matter of months. This was the Crypt Keepers's headquarters, our headquarters.
I was in so much of a daze I hadn't even noticed that Zayn had gotten out of the truck. I unbuckled my seatbelt, and practically dropped out of the automobile it was so high. When I walked around, his arm automatically wrapped around my shoulders, a message- his way of letting the boys, who gazes lingered just a little bit too long, that I was off limits. The sun had barely risen as Zayn hit the door with his knuckle, playing the familiar rhythmic pattern known by all the members as The Knock.
The clinking of the door being unlocked was heard, and Zayn dropped his arm from my shoulders. As soon as he opened the door, the strong stench of marijuana hit me hard, seemingly blinding my nose. You'd think after almost a decade of being around the stuff you'd become immune to the scent, but that's not the case- At least with me. "Look who's on time." A smile immediately graced my lips as an Irish accent filled my ears, and I stepped inside the house before closing the door behind me.
"Shut up before I kick your ass, Niall."
Zayn laughed, and shook his head as he looked from me to Niall, before gripping Niall's hand loosely, and bringing another around his back to give a light pat. When you're in a gang you form an alliance, and soon enough the people within that alliance become family, but Zayn didn't trust half the dudes in the Crypts- He'd kill a few if there wasn't any rules against it, and of course- If I wasn't around. Niall Horan was different though, we've known blondie since we were little and he was a brunette. Our dad and his mom? Best of friends (she was his main hooker from the start, wherever he went, she followed), it was almost inevitable that us three were sort of the same, minus the sex and stuff.
"Ooh, I'm so scared! The half-pint's gonna kick my arse!" Niall taunted, taking a few steps back before getting in his fighting stance.
"You better watch it, Horan-" Zayn quipped, looking back as he walked down the corridor, cameras on each side monitoring his every move. "She had a rough morning- Starting off feisty today!"
"Ooh, me gusta luchadora," He wiggled his eyebrows, a sardonic grin on his face.
"You like it feisty, eh?" I smirked, and reached out, hooking my finger through his belt loop before pulling him closer. "Para su mala no conseguir ninguna, papi." I looked up at him, the smirk still plastered on my plump lips as I lifted my right hand to gently cup his chin, and bring his mouth down to mine.
Niall and I were a little more than best friends, boyfriend and girlfriend though a secret to most, including Zayn. While English was his first language- Spanish was mine, and in an attempt to form a better relationship with me when we were younger, he became fluent. How could you not love this blue-eyed bandit?
At first glance you wouldn't think I was Zayn's sister for I take after my mother, who is exactly that- My mother, not Zayn's. The only mirroring features I possess are his hazel eyes, and smooth olive skin. I didn't come into direct contact with my half-brother until I moved to Bradford from America when I nine, and he was twelve. I hit the bullseye when it comes to being an outsider, almost immediately called out when I speak as clear as day, and you can hear my vague but noticeable Spanish twang.
"Starting off rough?" Niall asked, peering down at me after I pulled back.
I shrugged lightly as my hand moved from his belt loop to wrap around his waist. "Just memories that's all. The flashes hit me hard, ya know?"
"We can talk about it, if you want, you know I'm here for you." He told me, and draped an arm casually over my shoulder as we walked farther down the corridor. There were four thin, mahogany doors on this corridor- Two on each side, and you could hear the fights and smell the blood and sex before you heard it. The stench of various drugs being used had seemingly permanently soaked into the wall as well as our clothes, and this was normal for us- This was our comfortable.
Though the gang was full of sneaky, and conniving people, for the most part we all had each others' back, and that was because of Yaser. The gang's leader, and my father. Don't let the daddy's little girl stereotype fool you though because honestly the old man just tolerates us more than the others. He doesn't care about us, and we don't give a fuck about him. He sees this as business, and because we were his children we were the first to help extend his message.
We're bounded to this lifestyle not by choice, but by the faults of two women that crossed him at different times in his life. I've ruined so many youngsters by guiding them down this path, and whenever I refuse to spread- To stop pulling a misguided kid into the gang life... Ha, let's just say he doesn't take well to the cycle being broken. We need all the supporters we can get.
"I know," After turning the corner I realized we made it on time, the calling bell rung throughout the foundation letting all who were present know that there was a meeting. The sound of shuffling, and the sight of numerous gang bangers (mostly male) erupting out of doors blurred my vision as Niall and I mirrored their actions. Almost everyone had taken out their phones to silence the device, not wanting to disrupt the meeting.
A group of about thirteen, us included, piled into a big room known as the Oval Office. This was the place were all formal meetings were held, and sitting there in the middle was Yaser who went strictly by Malik. "I know the bell rung, but I only want one person- Honey."
Me gusta luchadora - I like it feisty.
Para su mala no conseguir ninguna, papi - Too bad you're not getting any, daddy.
Sorry if the Spanish isn't correct, I used Google Translate.