A Love Letter (Satine)

[Andrew Shedim]

Drew had contemplated how he was going to tell his beautiful raven haired vixen everything. Sure, she knew he had his connections, that he wasn't exactly a "good" guy, he had a violent streak, was fond of his vices, and never bothered hiding his criminal activities. But she also how much he cared for her, that he would do absolutely anything for her without question, hell, she even knew that the ganster loved her. One thing he had never done though was spill the beans on what made him what he was today; part of him feared that she might walk away from him, something her sire seemed certain she'd do even if he had to make her.

If the gangster was going to make this thing work with Satine then he owed her complete honesty, owed her the full truth of all that he was and leave the ball in her court on what she would do. If she left him then he would know he at least had the best woman, if she stayed then he wasn't wrong, she was perfect for him. Grabbing a notebook and pen he decided to write it all out for her, if she ended up being disgusted with him he sure as **** didn't want to see the look on her face with his own eyes. He tapped out a small line of coke and snorted it, lighting a cigarette he finally put the pen to paper.
________

So here it is dollface, I'm going to give you the rundown of my life, some good and some bad and you can make of it what you want but either way I want you to know you stole my fuckin heart and I fuckin love ya for it.

Back before I was the sexy fuckin thug you know and love today, before I was a blood thief makin runs for Carlo and those guido Lionelli, I was just a little boy from Queens. Unfortunately I never had that happy childhood ****, hell, can't even say I really knew moms and pops. They had their own **** going and didn't have time to raise some kid so I spent the first couple years of my life with the grandma, real uptight old school Jewish type. And I was a handful baby girl, I got my *** beat probably for more **** than I even knew and I couldn't stand the old hag at all. But she died when I was still pretty little, probably like five or something, been a lot of dope between then and now. Anyway, she died and I was back in that fuckin dump my moms stayed in, my dad either left her or died or some who gives a ****.

Katrina couldn't figure out what the hell she was gonna do with me, dump a kid in the lap of some absentee junkie whore ***** and that kids gonna learn to fend for himself or die. I couldn't stand it, between being strung out (ironic right?) and the constant rotation of abusive fuckers she brought home I don't think she ever actually knew I existed. I stayed with her for about three or four years before I just said **** it and kicked boots. I don't know if you've spent much time in New York but for a little fuckin kid with nothing and no one to count on, it gets pretty goddamn hard to make it. I don't know how many nights I was out there just starving, begging for change so I could get something to eat and when I could grab a bite I was lucky if some bum didn't beat my *** and steal it.

A few months out on the street, digging through dumpsters for food, sleepin in em for warmth, someone finally noticed and called in the child protective police and got my *** put in some orphanage run by a herd of nuns. The place wasn't all that bad at first, a bed to sleep in at night and three meals a day and there were other kids to talk to. But that's about where the good **** ends, I was the only jew there so of course I got fucked with A LOT. One of the nun teacher ladies always had some **** to say and the fact I caused a lotta trouble didn't help much. We're gonna skip ahead to me gettin out that *****, don't think ya need a day by day retelling (doubt I'd remember it all anyway). So I'd say less than a year I had enough, especially of Mother Helena, one night I snuck out of bed ready to bolt out the window and just run but I wanted to pay the ***** back for all her **** so I snuck into her room, shoved a sock in her mouth and choked her till I felt her windpipe crush in my hands and left.

Life on the streets didn't get any easier but I did get a lot better at dealing with it. I learned to fight like a *********** to get what I needed and to keep what I got, there's little room to be weak in this world and I learned real quick to be the predator. In no time I was a damn good fighter (you probably know this) and a pretty fuckin good thief which eventually got me noticed by this group of guys, little gang called 5th Street, tough little gang of other Jews and I started running with them. For a while it wasn't nothing too bad, mostly breaking into cars, picking people's pockets and **** like that, just petty **** that put money in our pockets, bling around our necks, ya know, all that **** punk *** boys get in to. But them boys also got me into dope, smoking weed, little coke and meth (again, **** you already know) **** to make living on the streets a little more tolerable. Well one day we were all just chilling in the park, probably getting high and looking for a car to steal, when these three little Bloods come startin ****. We were used to fighting but one of the dudes had a gun and the **** just seemed to get a lot more real. I'd never had my life actually threatened, never had a fuckin gun pulled on me. Satine, it was crazy, the world around me seemed to disappear and I fuckin snapped! Without even thinking I threw myself at this little ***** and wrestled him to the ground, ya don't **** with me or my boys, but I got the gun out of his hand somehow and just beat the holy **** out of him with it. When I finally tired out I was sitting on him and just drenched in blood, so so much blood, the gun was shattered but so was this dudes face, like someone had shoved a grenade in his mouth and pulled the pin. Bits of brains and skull were on me, around me, it was a fuckin mess and all my boys, his boys, just no one was doing or saying nothing. I tossed the gun out in the Hudson and walked away, I literally felt nothing; not happy, not sad, wasn't pissed, wasn't scared, just a fuckin void. Of course after that I got mad respect and from then on I knew I could kill and not think twice about it, and I did, from that day any *********** that messed with me or 5th Street found themselves in the Hudson or a dumpster, sometimes in pieces.

It was around this time, I was about fourteen, maybe fifteen or so that my life really got interesting. We still got high, robbed motherfuckers, broke into places, still doing all this **** right but I started to feel bored. Sure, I had money, I was never hungry, had nice clothes and ****, had some girls (it was crazy how much pussy money and dope would get ya on the streets) and was constantly fucked up, but it was always the same ole same ole and it wasn't working for me. Well late one night this *********** comes strolling through our hood, classy looking dude too right, all wearing some spiffy fuckin suit, polished shoes, real nice watch and ****; the dude was obviously loaded and walkin through OUR hood like he's the **** of the fuckin walk. So I tell my boys to watch this ****, I'm gonna put this ***** on his knees (like I said, I was really bored and this **** was a game). I call out to him, he ignores me, so I follow him, creepin, ready to take that fat fuckin wallet of his but before my hand is in his pocket he has me by the wrist; I still remember how cold his skin was, it was like he'd been keeping his hands in ice but it was July, no way was it cold, and that grip, swear to **** he was going to crush my wrist with that iron vice grip of his. So dude is holding me, I'm on my knees tryin not to **** in my pants and he's just staring without a sound. When he finally let go he offered to buy me something to eat and said he wanted to talk to me or he could let me go and kill me, figured I could use a warm meal any way at this point. Told me his name was Carlo Fachiano and he wanted to know about me. So we're sitting in this little dive of a diner, I tell him all about my life up to that point, I noticed he wasn't eating or drinking nothing, just sitting there puffing his cigar.

When the man started talking I didn't know what to say, he was a capo for this family of wise guys, the Lionelli and if I was interested then they could use a guy like me. I didn't even hesitate to say yes, if you were from New York you knew the Lionelli name, might not have believed all the **** you heard about em but you knew the name. So at fourteen I became what we call a bag boy for these wise guys, running and delivering packages and ****, slinging a little dope, small **** at first but always reporting to Carlo.

I'm gonna sidetrack here for a second, I want to tell you how he revealed what he, what they were. I would never have believed that vampires were a real thing. One night he's sitting there asking me what I believe in, told him I was Jewish, maybe not a good Jew, if that was what he meant and he asked if I believed in vampires. I'd seen movies and **** but no way were they real. He said they were more real than I could know and he could prove it to me. Of course I'm just thinking he's blitzed out of his mind and told him lets go find one. Next thing I know he's biting my fuckin neck and I couldn't move, my head was swimming and ****, it was crazy! In all of this, the one thing that seemed crazy was I wasn't scared at all. But with that out of the way I'll tell you how I got to be a blood thief.

A few years with Carlo, he had taken me under his wing and ****, teaching me how to get better, to cut out the petty **** and learn to be a real criminal. But he decided to move me up, teach me to be something called a Blood Thief, assuming I survived it. One night he brings me to this really nice, really big fuckin house and takes me to this dark room with about 8 guys in suits, like it's some **** straight out of The Devil's Advocate or something. Asked me if I swear my loyalty and blah blah blah, this huge oath and made me get on my knees; one of the guys cuts his wrist and makes me drink the blood.
Baby girl, I was ON FIRE! For a good ten minutes I thought I was going to die, I know I fuckin begged for it, but when the pain was gone, my god it was awesome! The world around me seemed to come to life in ways I'd never known, I could see, hear, smell, and feel things like until that moment I had been dead or asleep. I survived and they put me with this group of guys that handled business with other vampires they couldn't bother dealing with. Every night they would give us some blood and I was a fuckin junkie.

Being a blood thief was like a whole new world, I was a lot faster and a **** of a lot stronger. We had to be though, couldn't expect to take down something like a vampire just some punk kid from the streets ya know. And the vampires fuckin HATED us, apparently these Broussard people learned how to steal the blood from vampires or some ****, I don't really know all the history there, but they seemed kinda badass for what they did. The first time a vampire tried some **** it felt really similar to the first time I REALLY killed, I snatched that fanged by the hair (did you growl a little?) and just smashed her face into the pavement until only my fist was punching the street, it was brutal, just a bloody ******* mess, and I just stood watching as that weak little corpse turned to ashes. I very quickly turned to some harsh methods on our jobs with vampires, you have to be brutal to make your point with our kind.

Well baby girl, that about wraps this up. I don't have a spotless fuckin record by any means. I've been to jail more times than I care to admit, I'm a thief, I still use drugs, I'm a killer, I can be shunned by mortal and immortal alike, and I'm far from fuckin finished, in fact I doubt I've even really started. I remember when we first met you looked at me with nothing but contempt, I remember we wanted to kill each other! But I found the most amazing fuckin woman ever when I found you. If this doesn't make you leave me then I am going to keep doing everything I can for you. I will destroy any ***** that fucks with you, I'll die protecting you a thousand times over. I ******* love you Satine.
<3 Bugsy

[Satine]

Satine tossed her keys to the vehicle that was parked in the street in a rather odd position. It pointed front end towards the building with its *** end hanging out enough that traffic would have to move around it. It would get another ticket or worse. Facts were it had been hauled away three times during the past month while they were sleeping like the dead through the summer daylight hours. Satine knew that Juice would come in while Bugsy was pulling off his bloody clothes and fix him a couple lines like a pro. It would just be the beginning of the scene as it continued to unfold. The massive hulking pin stripe suited gangster would tell the six foot plus blonde bloodthief whom he referred to as “Boss” that he had some business to take care of and not to get to comfortable. Andrew Krepsi, title holder of the sleek black 1952 Crown Victoria, would need to dust off his nose and put on a suit jacket and go down to the station impound and sweet talk them to give the ride back.

All of that would play out with grumbling on Bugsy’s part. Juice Box, the original right hand man, would straighten his lapels and open the suicide door to the back. His tall lanky boss would set a foot in the dark interior of the car then take a pause on sliding his *** in to claim the seat. Something would scream for his attention and it would be the exterior of the car that catches his chilling blue eyes. “I beg your pardon. I never promised you a ******* rose garden.” Would not be half as amusing to the man as it would be to Satine when she sang the song to him when he barreled like a raging bull through their front door. She would bet her *** on the fact that the man would never forget the tune once she told him that is exactly what she drove the black beast through while taking a short cut towards the salon. How the **** was she supposed to know the city garden guild was holding the annual moonlight fundraiser in the middle of Thornside Park?

Satine expected the New York accent to call out her name. It would be loud, cuddled tight with profanity and demands to know where the hell she had been with his cherished four wheeled beast. Bugs loved that care so much that she was pretty sure he would take the back end of it if it would say his name. What she didn’t expect was the place to be void of his voice or of the broad shoulders of Juice Box that would require her weaving around him in the hallways to get from point a to point b while Krepsi ranted longer the really was necessary. There was no face to be found. If she had not been exhausted thanks to the unexpected fist fight...yes fist fight...with the retired persons garden guild she would have spent a couple minutes trying to hunt his sweet *** down. He had been called out on business. That was a possibility. While that seemed the most reasonable conclusion her eyes searched the room they shared as she stepped through it.

A growing pool of black and red material slowly formed as she undressed starting at the top working her way down. Blood red talons began the task of unbuttoning the black pearl buttons at her waist and worked the material down. Just as her hips were about to be set free her fingers stopped and left the material clinging to the swell of her petite curves. A piece of folded paper caught her attention. She was drawn instantly. Each foot lifted back and her hand slipped off the stiletto and set them in the walk in closet on the way to the desk where the white paper was resting against an empty bottle.

Satine settled into the chair next to the desk and brushed her hand over the surface sending the white powder that was barely noticeable into the air. He was getting better. He was not leaving lengths of tracks behind that could get a chorus line high like he did in the beginning when she met him. She lifted the nearly empty pack of Newports and filed them into the desk drawer and closed it. A light reach had the polished off bottle of 190 proof Gem Clear. You couldn’t smell his level of baddassery drunkenness but you could usually see it coming.

Which is exactly what had the midnight black head of hair shaking slowly while sitting at a desk with a letter in hand. The pale free hand made the last moves to organize what remained of his recent presence. The small clear baggie took a couple pulls but finally it lifted from the soft lump of Big Red chewing gum that anchored it down to the black desk beneath it. The scent of cinnamon was set loose as her fingers pulled the cold wad that was retired from its purpose of keeping the candy bag from flying away with Bugsy’s mind. Her fingers were sticky but she had already arrived and planted her *** down so curiosity won over and she pulled the paper open to find Bugsy’s unmistakable penmanship covering the inside at impressive length.

As silver orbs began the tour of the first line she was hooked. The longest line of ink set by his hand in the past from what she could remember was usually his full name to checks, invoice receipts and what not. The man had her attention and it appeared he had something to say. She leaned back in the chair and figured judging from the length that unfolded she would be there for a little while so she opened the drawer where the cigarettes had been tossed and decided to pull one free from the dwindling pack and set it to life with the flame from the lighter ignited beneath the end. The zippo was tossed back in the drawer and her bare feet with the flame red polish lifted to rest crossed at the ankles on the top of the desk.

Two lines in and she tipped back to rock the chair that should never be rocked. By the fourth she felt her heart nearly pump seeing he loved her in his own handwriting. With that her ankle moved a little more than it should have and she lost her perfect makeshift recliner and was briefly in the air before managing to land on her feet like a cat with the cigarette still in hand and her skirt claiming victory at remaining on her hips. She kicked the chair across the room and landed on their bed in a belly flop bouncing lightly before finally settling to read on.

It took a few minutes to read the whole letter. Even longer to absorb the life Andrew “Bugsy” Krepsi had. She could nearly see him as a kid and he was ******* adorable. All those assholes he mentioned had to be so shitty to him. The world was a ******* mess and if that was not enough it was so cruel to kids. If they aren’t perfect or wanted it was common belief that one can just toss them out with the trash in the dark when nobody's looking then go back in and **** and try again hoping to finally pop out something worth keeping. Her nostrils flared at that and she inhaled deep on the cigarette as she folded up the letter. He wouldn’t have to worry. She was not going anywhere except to the desk to pull out a few pieces of paper and the silver zippo.

For all the bravado Bugsy had shoved in her face since she had known him he impressed her more in that moment with those lines on the paper in her hand than ever before. She brought the letter to her lips and inhaled the scent left behind. He offered up his heart and the truth as he had lived it. A quick snap of her thumb crashing down summoned the flame to burst to life beneath the paper she held. As the fire consumed the love letter she smiled. Her two bit gangster just claimed a little more of her than she ever realized she had to offer.

It didn’t take long for ashes to be left behind as the flames burned out. Satine dusted the remnants of his words into the plastic baggie and sealed the top. It was the right thing to do because she ‘motherfucking loves’ him. Her red nails slid the plastic cased ashes into the black lace bra that kept her tight and sitting high. Taking the pen in hand Satine did something she really had never done before. Leave an ink trail of who she was, where she had been and what she had done on purpose with vivid detail. So much so it would read as if she had no remorse and took pride in it. And she did. She meant every word that was written with the same pen he used.

______________________________________________________

I am not going anywhere. You have no idea what I went through to get here. Before I reveal what, where, when, why and how know this...I love you. If that is all that is left after this remember that. Your words you offered are in the ashes I have kept. I set them on fire after they seared into my memory. They are mine as are you if you choose to remain so after you read the good, the bad and the ugly as I know it. Sit down. this may not be as long as yours was but I have a few things you should know.

I was one in a set of identical twins. I was kept while the other was given up. That was my introduction to how the world worked. I got the short end of deal. I don’t feel bad about it. It is the only thing I know so what could I really be missing if I never had anything different? I became a sick woman’s keeper as soon as I was walking. Mom was a hard core addict. If she could shoot it up, cut it up, ingest it or inhale it she did. The one who knocked her up was not much better. He was just a brighter bulb and ran the **** away while he had a few brain cells and a piggy bank left to save. Not sure but the culprit who planted some seed probably pedaled his Schwinn out of Adelaide faster than the kids in the ending of that movie E.T. I say pedal because mom was barely out of braces. Okay, so maybe she was a little older than that. I do know that she was not old enough to drive when she was popping me and my sister out. So being clueless with two mouths to feed was not her plan. Neither was admitting she decided to leave one of us behind. That comes up later.

Things were relatively quiet the first couple years while mom led the wild life running off like a cat in heat every other week. I didn’t have grandparents. They were in a car accident sort of. Plane hit them of all things. Nothing more to add there. Kind of says it all. Quick and painless. With the way she lies for all I know is they actually are alive and somewhere trying to live off the stain she left behind. I can’t say it was entirely bad in the beginning because most of the time I was in decent hands of people I was no more related to than the I am to the Pope. I was spared being with her. There is always a silver lining in everything if you look hard enough. After five years of bouncing around like a bouncy ball everything changed the moment she set her eyes on the biggest mess to walk on two feet.

Chester. He came from a rich family and he was one of those deals where it's in the family but you want to lift up the rug and sweep that **** under and never think twice. He was a ******* loser. My mom thought he could feed her the moon and stars. Pretty sure she was hanging out up there. She was so snowed out of her mind talking about such crazy **** that I can honestly say I never had a clear conversation with the woman the entire time I remember growing up. I was in more back alley club doors dragging her *** out dealing with scum that would make the slimeballs in this town look like the rich and famous.

I was running packages for Chester thinking I was delivering repaired radios. He had a shop off the side of the shack we lived in. I was never allowed inside. Fine by me because I had no interest in being around him anymore than I had to. I made my bowl of whatever was left for breakfast and I put the radios in my backpack and would drop them off on the way to school. On the way out I would step over faces passed out on the floor that I had never seen before. Mom was at times in the pile of bodies. Of course the ****** wasn’t. I was thinking at the time the radios were pieces of crap and had no clue why they were such a hit with these people.

I finally found out when I was offered a ride home by one of kids parents. The guy dropped off his son and drove me out to a dive of a place and wanted to see my backpack which I kept close because Chester said I would never walk again if I lost those radios. Long story short because my hand hurts and really the memories are enough. The ****** got started on the idea his hands were going to go places they didn’t belong on a kid. I tried to get out but he stopped me so I ran towards the back room and he liked that idea. I had my hand on the door to get out and that is when I was staring at one of Chester’s goons. I was tossed to another creep and taken home.

Chester was waiting. I heard in class a few days later that the kid moved because his dad was killed by some drug dealer. Imagine that. I went home and made my way into Chester’s shop. Found out that the guy was no radio repair man. Also found out Chester had no issue with kicking my *** like he did my mothers.

About this point there is a long history where someone reported I was having some issues talking to myself. I wasn’t. I knew about her even if my mom said it was in my head and Chester was saying I was more messed up than a kid that lived on paint chips. Mom took me to doctors who were more than happy to take her side of things and fed her prescriptions to feed her nerves as well as the voices in my head. I was a walking ball of fluff half the time. I remember one batch of pills they tried messed me up so bad I wasn’t able to tie my own shoes. More reports and more people to visit. Blah, blah, blah. It is what it all starts to sound like. I talked to her in the mirrors because I could not shake the feeling she was there. It saw her and it was the closest I could get to what otherwise was supposed to be my imagination. Mom was finally diagnosed with MBPS and disappeared to a month long stay for treatment.

The whole downward spiral progressed from there. Chester was kicking the worlds *** and ours.I became my mother’s keeper and watched her become wafer thin, lose teeth and trade places in jail with numbnuts. I got older and fed up with the ********, the junkies that came and went and the bodies still on the floor. One day I finally snapped after one of the tyrades. I had finally found my birth certificate. Not the crappy piece of paper my mom had been bullshitting me with. As soon as I brought it up Chester brought up his fist and I nearly lost my teeth. I didn’t feel like another set of black eyes was going to be in my future. I looked at my life as it was. Chester’s nose candy was taking its toll on his brain and my mom’s overall existence. I gathered up all the drugs in the bathroom medicine cabinet and whipped mom up a cocktail that put her in la-la land. I didn’t think about it much beyond grabbing the ax he kept by the door for the losers who would try to get into his shop for a five finger discount. I met him at the door and lured him into the room that offered the least clean up and took to him with swings that had me hitting home runs on his squealing ***. It felt good. You like that blood that gave you power well my first real rush was killing Chester like that. I didn’t need no god damned pills. I didn’t need someone to sit in a chair and look at me while I talked about feeling like half of me was missing. I just needed to swing that ax and get it out of my system. The moment I did I was cured. I wrapped him up like the butcher’s special, tossed him in the deep freezer and set fire to the place. I took his money stash and headed out with the info I had.

Your life isn’t anything to be ashamed of. You do what you have to survive. No one hands you a manual and points you in the right direction when those who are supposed to lead you check out and take a **** on you. My life pales in comparison to yours. What you wrote is far more interesting. You got to do what you have to. I don’t want to change that. Improve it if I can perhaps but make you something you aren’t...never. We are no angels, babyboy. Never will be but I swear I would tear the ******* world apart to keep you safe. I know you can do it yourself but that is what it’s about. You got my back and I got yours. I know I missed the first wave of the incoming but I think you know I won’t be late for the next if that **** happens again.

I have so many gaps and **** to add to fill in the blanks but I am not going to give you another five pages of reasons to fall asleep. If you are wanting to know then ask. Otherwise this is the boring short version. I see a future where I never even thought about it before. I want to build big things, Bugsy. Epic things with you. I don’t give a **** what the world or anyone thinks. I have made it this far taking whatever comes and now I am wanting to do that with you. If you still will have me after this boring as all **** letter that has me sounding more like you the more I write then congrats you got yourself a handful. If you don’t feel free to drop off at the police station a few blocks down after you leave the lobby. It is all up to you. Now you know where I stand. What holds this letter together is worth something if you stay. If you don’t then pawn it because the finger it was on is gone. It should be worth something. You have my twisted heart. I want yours. I love you madly, Satine

___________________________________________________________________

The ink was fading in the pen that had served its purpose. Silver orbs followed her fingers over the paper as she rolled it tightly into a thin scroll. Now she was certain. She was in love with him. Enough so that in an attempt to prove it and return the gift of full disclosure she was literally handing him all he needed to erase her if he wanted to. She looked around the lower drawer of the desk for something to tie wit with. Nothing seemed handy until she remembered one of the tokens she was able to leave with from the garden party skirmish earlier. One distinguished gentleman lost a gold ring to her faster than lightning hands. After retrieving the ring from her purse she slid the gold circlet over the informal scroll. She kissed the gold and paper then tossed it on the bed where he would eventually find it. It would be up him. She already made up her mind.

The skirt that draped her lower hips was hooked firmly with her thumbs while her hips did a slow shimmy to send the material down to the floor. Her feet didn’t miss a beat in carrying her to the shower she needed. The hot water started up and she pulled out the plastic baggie from the lace that was released from her shoulders. Both were left on the vanity as she stepped into the spray of the water above her.

[Andrew Shedim]

The Killer had slipped out to take care of some business with a few guys in the slums that had been refusing to see things the way Carlo Fachiano had suggested; taking his man, Nathan, the man Satine so lovingly referred to as Juice Box, for backup. He wouldn't exactly need the man to get the job done but Krepsi often showed favor to giving bullet wounds to receiving them and Nate always knew what was expected on the job. The dynamic duo made rather short work of their opposition; one would think if you refused the offer of the Lionelli you would have more than just a couple of bottom of the hood rats to stand against them.

Entering the apartment in West Towers he now shared with Satine he immediately went to the desk to grab a cigarette, happy to see the letter he had left was gone but so were his cigarettes. He prowled through the drawers, finding the pack of menthols and his zippo; did she think even a pack of smokes needed to be safely tucked away and hidden? Sure, that little mute progeny of hers, Doranis, often lurked about but the gangster was fairly certain the kid was old enough to know cigarettes would kill him. He removed one from the pack and turned to sit on the bed when he noticed his beautiful pale skinned princess already lay fast asleep, barely an article of clothing adorning the milky flesh.

It took a moment before he was able to take his eyes off of her, knowing before he slipped in next to her he should at least remove the dingy *** clothes he wore and wash away the dried hood rat blood that caked his his hands, arms, and face; the amount of blood and brain tissue that came with his line of work tended to ruin clothes and leave one extremely messy. As he turned to head into the bathroom to clean himself up and avoid waking her up with the suffocating fumes of cigarette smoke the faint glimmer of a gold band caught his eye, binding a tiny scroll. As quietly as he could he crept over to the bed, running a single finger down her spine as he picked up the rolled up paper and headed silently to the restroom.

He lit the cigarette and unfolded the paper; she had decided to respond to his letter with one of her own. The blood stained shirt and jeans were tossed carelessly to the floor, taking a seat on the toilet he inhaled deeply from the cigarette and began reading the words she had written. He knew the woman was tough as ******* nails, knew she could be just as ruthless as himself, but he had never known the full journey that made her who she was today. She had had a rough life, even one that he did not envy; growing up with no one sounded much easier than dealing with the tragic fuckin mess of people she was raised with. Parts had even made the cold hearted gangster tear up; he even felt a tinge of pity for Velveteen, the sister's relationship seemed complicated in the most kind of terms but he wondered if it had been hard on her as well, deprived of a childhood without her twin, but he would save concern for her to Micah, Satine was his gem and she was his to care for snd protect.

When he had finished the letter, he could not help but smile in relief at the fate of this Chester ******, Krepsi hated flying with a passion and Australia was one long ******* trip just to put a bullet between the eyes of some piece of ****, but he would do it in a heartbeat, there was nothing he wouldn't do for this woman. He dropped the butt of the cigarette in the toilet and kicked off the boxers to join the bloodied pile of clothing and grabbed a washcloth to scrub himself clean. With his pale, inked skin perfectly devoid of the mess from his night out with Juice Box, he grabbed his zippo and set the page ablaze. There was enough evidence here to cause a world of **** for Satine and he would not see this fall into anothers hands, he would fight the ******* world for her but that fight would not begin over a sheet of paper.

Stepping out of the bathroom his eyes once again fell upon his beautiful doll face and he leaned on the door frame for a moment just watching her. Not only was she drop dead gorgeous and tough as ****, she was gentle, caring, and even sweet; she had shown the Killer a side of himself he never knew he had, made him feel things meant only for the idealistic romantic types, no, she had awoken a new side of him, a side that seemed to make the world make sense, a side that made him want to cherish and protect this woman, a side that made the word love have meaning, she had made him want to be a better man, in his own way of course. He slipped the golden band onto the ring finger of his left hand before crawling into the bed next to her. His fingers traveled up the curve of her perfectly sculpted bottom and up her sides as he kissed her neck; fastening his arms around her he leaned in, his lips pressed lightly against her ear he whispered
"I ******* love you"