VENOM'S POV
[ under heavy editing ]

I was looking through the window at three in the morning. I watched Alessandro Santoro get into one of his many cars, leaving the house.

From a very young age, I was taught to observe, listen and learn quick.

I had little choice in what I wanted to watch as a kid, what I wanted to see and witness.

For a child who was barely one year old, it wasn't fair to watch and feel yourself get hit everyday, knowing there were people, there were parents to fight for you, to reach out and save you from misery and abuse, but they never did.

Walking out of the doors, I wrapped the midnight robe around me, feeling chills run down my arms, creating almost bullet holes from the warm air.

In many ways, Alessandro's house was always warm. It had this atmosphere, specially made for the walls, radiating into your skin when you walk in.

I walked down the hallway and took notice of the security camera. His house never really had that many security cameras compared to his other lands since barely anyone knew about this place but for some reason, the couple cameras that were disturbed around, were open and well turned on.

I made my way to the back garden. I got close to one of the pool's chairs and kicked it out of my way, revealing a door. I was leaning to open it when I noticed a fingerprint lock. Classic, I thought to myself feeling a grin reach my lips.

Doing my little thing, the door clicked and pushed open. I walked down the five stairs, standing in front of me was the door of  security room-1.

A chuckle echoed back at me, I have seen better. I let my hand caress the table, the one with the access to every single camera in this house, and with a small glance at the red button on the top left, they all shut down.

I got myself out, securing the door behind me. And then I knew, my next destination was this crazy car guy's garage.

My gaze fell on the door, watching it open from both sides. I stepped in shoulders leaned back, rising and allowing the smell of tires fill in my lungs.

Something about his love and passion for cars made me hate him a little less, just a little bit, if that was possible. By finding something we can both admire and agree on, seemed like a good ground to start from.

Human interaction was new, unfamiliar and distant. It wasn't uncomfortable or hard, it was just boring and useless.

Living with him, walking past him as if he were a curtain fluttering with the wind. From storming out of a room he breathed to glaring back instead of smiling, fun, it was all fun until my real hatred shown, until it was time to set this whole on fire and finally give the smile he'd been waiting for.

Our intentions were so different, he wanted to know me and I wanted to ruin, demolish and kill because that was what I'm best for, because that was my own will to live.

Back to the hallways, I only shared back a glance to his rom and office, begging me to enter and unravel at an hour when I could get in easily but there wasn't something in there I didn't know.

I dismissed the idea as if it wasn't the office of the most powerful Mafia Leader in history.

A mafia leader or a delivery guy, the paper and information lay on my desk for whenever I decide to look.

I gently ran a finger on the wall. Connecting with the hidden button, the pretty door unlocked. I stepped a foot on the marvel floor, taking a deep breath as the moon shimmer and glow against the stars. Someone enjoyed late nights.

I understood then, why he'd hide this place. The view, the handmade details, his handmade details.

I stood there, resting my forearms on the railing. If he had a thing for nights, I had it for darkness.

The dark held invisibility, something I was much familiar with.

Eight years ago, someone told me a woman should be two things, who and what she wants; who she dreams to be, and what she desires to become. And from there, it all began.

Growing out of home, running away and escaping the death of those who craved it upon me, what I had left wasn't money or pride, I hadn't power, strength or hope.

I had nothing, I rooted from nothing and I lost whatever was in the blind depth of nothing.

My body crumbled, every second, I felt it in bones, I felt them burst and dysfunction. I sensed my vision get blurry and heavy. I heard the blood stop running through my veins, I heard my heart stop beating,
and I knew, I knew I was dying, I knew I was dead.

But there was something inside of me, something along the way, the future I didn't know that pulled me, hung onto me just enough, just for a moment, a chance for me to get up, to stand and fight, fight those who killed me, those who stole from me, stole my childhood, my innocence, my life.

Over the years, I've realized it was rage. It was that drop in your stomach, that pound against your head, hammering and gripping your skull as your face heated but then it froze and shattered into pieces, pieces of memories, of scars craved into your skin, craved into the present and the future for the rest of life and death.

Wrath and fury surrounded me, overwhelmed my fragile body and rebirth. Built and formed a person with a name, a person who was once weak, naive and broken, a person who wasn't ready, but was willing to be, to become something, someone, the world would fear, the universe would shake and bow to.

I shook the endless thoughts and cleared my mind. The more I talk, the more I stand on his territories, I always find myself comparing our lives, putting them side to side, picking out the similarities and highlighting the differences, the motivate after the reason I was there, the reason I agreed to that alliance.

But unlike him, I learned to control and shut out my thoughts through pure insomnia. It was not usually my favorite thing to stay up all night, count minutes as they passed carelessly, leaving me in the void while I wished to sleep like normal people did. It wasn't normal, so I learned to cope with it, live and trace down the moon rise from The East and set in The West because no matter how much and how long I can fight it, I was never born to be normal.

It became less tiring throughout the years. It used to be my weakness. After discovering more about myself and reviving parts of my body and mind, I dealt with it and stop calling it suffering.

That was the way I was born, the way I was built and brought into this world. If I didn't accept it, it will hunt me down until the last breath I took.

At that time, I had nothing to lose and I wasn't about to let a sleeping condition bring me down after the tons of shit I've been through.

I found strength in every small and big, easy and hard. I found strength in myself, to save me when I'm hurt, to catch me when I'm falling and to recuse me when I'm drowning.

A mentality of authority and command over your heart and mind is power. A stable person's focus and brain is might, honor and unbreakable.

Having myself as a supporter, a brightest reason to keep going isn't easy to achieve, yet what is a challenge without a little bit or a lot of hardship and trouble.

People tend to rely on each other, they need help from family, friends and sometimes strangers. On the other side, I've seen the same people throw themselves in front of a bullet, sacrificing their lives for a being, another person just like them who might take their effort, use it and suck on it and leave, never once looking back.

So I never did the same. No matter who it was and where it happened, how dangerous or sad, I always came first.

I was thrown into this earth for a cause and it surely wasn't to sacrifice my life, my last breath and ounce of blood on someone.

And for that, I've been called selfish, cruel and vicious, a small mixture of what I was.

[ unedited part ]

I went back to my bedroom, opening the glass window. I grabbed both sides of the window, holding it tight. I placed my right foot on the window's stool, lifting my left foot after it. I turned my body, feeling the cold air rush in my back. I placed my hands on the gutter of the gable roof as I pushed my body upwards while lifting my feet from the window. And there I was, on the roof.

Now I could let all the thoughts trapped in for years let go. Having time to think or let out emotions wasn't a thing I'm used to. I don't have any emotions, except for anger. Since I was a child I was mistreated by many people, I was humiliated and thrown into a world I never deserved. I was called weak, a failure, a waist. My whole childhood was a living hell, I never got to have one to begin with. I was thrown into a tough world with no one to protect me. I was helpless, a child no one was there for nor gave in to help even with the smallest thing. I needed someone to be there, to tell me everything will be okay and hold me in their arms making sure I felt warm and happy. But no one gave in, no one made it better. No one thought to take in the pain of a newborn child.

It's crazy when I look back. I used to make these people excuses, trying to see the good in them. The good they never gave me. Every single time I tired to trust someone or maybe there's still hope in my fucked up life, I was let down with more disappointment. With more tears running down my face, with no one to wipe them away.

I didn't know how to do it myself, I didn't know. I didn't learn. I was taught to take in the pain with my mouth shut. If I scream, yell or cry it gets worse and worse. I was a kid, I couldn't take it. It was hard, so fucking hard and no one cared. No one thought for just a second how this would make me feel, how this would effect me for the rest of my life.

But I learned a lot. I used to wish and say I became the person I am today because of a supportive family, trustful friends but no. I became who I am today from being tortured, from breaking each part left of me, physically and mentally.

All my emotions disappeared along with bruises. Some of them never left, chasing me everywhere I go as a reminder of the past I can't run from. I tried so many times to accept it, that this was what I deserved and how it should have gone but I couldn't because I knew I didn't deserve any of it, no one does.

I was a good person my whole life, I was kind to all the people around me. I would drop myself on the floor for another stranger, a stranger who would be gone in a matter of time. I would forget about myself, my problems and my emotions for others sake for me to be left alone in the end with no one. I lived a life of being manipulated, used for people's satisfaction and happiness. I would lay on the floor, covered in blood with tears running down my face for someone else to be satisfied. To let their anger out on me, on a person that only wanted the best for everyone that they forgot what's the best for them.

I wasn't taught how to stand up for myself, how to defend myself. I was useless, all I did was cry in pain and scream the loudest I could in hope of someone to fight for me when I couldn't.

I sighed, breathing in slowly. My heart hurts from all of this, I hated crying. I wasn't sad or triggered from my past, it's just I knew so damn much I deserved better. I deserved to have all the things that were taken away from me. I might have them now, but nothing will fill in the years. No apology, no words nor action will take me back and make me feel better.

That's the beauty of the past, you can't change it. I think it's absolutely beautiful how you can't go back no matter what because I didn't want to change my past. All the things I mentioned were all the old me having dreams, wishes and hopes. Now all of it doesn't matter. No matter how much I wish, no matter how much I hope and cry myself to sleep it won't take me back and change my reality.

I am proud of who I am and how I grew. I took each hit, each scream and turned it into something meaningful. I never tried to love my past or try to see the best out of it, because there wasn't. The only thing that came out of it so loving, so powerful and so beautiful was the woman I became.

Words can't describe how much I am proud of myself, to pull myself out of this fucked up world and create my own. A world where I feel safe, a world where I can control and step further, knowing it won't take me down.

I started taking it all in, living with it as a part of my non-existent routine. God knows how much it took me to be here, to stand still each fight and to be able to get out alive. People mention how talented I am, how fearless but no one remembers or even gives in the simplest thoughts of how much it took to be there. No one thought for a second how hard work I put myself in to be the fucking person they fear. They wanted me dead, not caring how much shit I got through. They just wanted to end me after all I have done and went through, no one looked at me and said maybe she deserves to live or maybe she got her own story.

Everyone wants to get rid of me and I don't care in any possible way. If you have the guts to step in, trying to take the source of life in my body just be ready to face another side of me and a side of your own death.

Through the years I was made fun of. Being told I am a woman, a man can take me down with one hand. That I was weak to throw a punch and now I visit each one of them lifeless, under a grave.

I would look at where they're now, remembering how I turned their lives down. People would feel guilty to hurt someone but I felt pure happiness taking the last living soul in their body with my own bare hands.

That was the only event which caused me genuine happiness. The feeling of taking down people who once disrespected me was something priceless, something not everyone knows much about.

Happiness got taken away from me years ago and it never came back, along with sadness. Nothing was left in me except for anger, that little shit head stuck with me through it all.

Anger is nothing but power, you either control it or let it destroy you. Losing my anger was one of the worst things. I'm always in control of it but these moments when it's blurry and I am not in hold of it, it's when I know everything is about to get blown up mostly torn down by the damage I caused.

I enjoyed this, I always did. Having a breath, letting out all the thoughts stuck in your head. It's not easy to hold them. It's something like, you have to study this lesson but there's an exam tomorrow that's more important so you push it aside for that one exam. However it's not just one exam, your whole life is a test.

Life throws at you all it's worst, to see if you're getting back up or falling down with it. It tries to break you, to feed from your failure unless you don't let it and feed on it's fiasco.

The feeling of succeeding at something you wished for is worth all the hard work you put in. Even if the feeling lasted for two seconds, that would be enough. People work their hardest to reach their dream life, but through the journey it won't be peaceful. It will turn it's back on you, telling you that you're not capable of this and would save time if you stopped. But never mix the old you with the one you're becoming. The old is trying to stick around for longer, not wanting to let go.

It's hard to change mindsets, to find new motives, the ones that will get you back up. No matter how hard it gets, your reasons become meaningless. Find a new one, a stronger reason to reach what you started this journey for because letting everything you worked for fall down won't make you the person you dreamed of, it won't make you any better. It will tear you down, taking all the hopes and faith you built. It'll throw it into the ground, disappearing like it never happened. You need to find something that will pull you back to where you stopped.

For me, I started changing when I took control over my emotions. I was a really emotional, sensitive person. I would care about what people said about me, I let their opinions affected me making me believe they were right and I was the problem yet I never found myself happy. I started building respect, if you want people to respect you the key is to respect yourself first. Know your worth, get to know the person behind all the insecurities, the tears, the pain and realize what you deserved and what you didn't. What's said behind your back, stay behind you. Don't give it a chance to step in front of you and build fear and insecurities.

Taking control of my emotions was the hardest thing I had to go through and it was the first thing I started with. I hated it, I hate that I cried each time someone talked shit about me. I let out crying and sadness out of my life and body. It is nowhere inside of me anymore, it became an unavailable emotion and I enjoyed that with my whole heart.

I would cheer myself up on how I held it in and not letting anyone see the effect they had on me as I started preparing for the next change, not letting anyone affect me in any way possible. I started changing a lot, at some points I wouldn't recognize myself and think I should go back to where I was but I would look back to who I was and realize I'm only becoming happier, not quite where I wanted at the time yet much better then before. Not because people have an identical way of change in a certain way, you have to follow it. Go your own way that will make you happy and proud of yourself.

At this point all that was left for me was anger and I stayed like this since then. I was numb as most people say. People's words, actions didn't affect me even when someone pointed the best out of me and gave me the whole world. I would see it as absolutely nothing, I'm not the type of person who appreciates people neither their actions. The only words that would affect me were my own, when I tell myself "I'm proud of you" that's when it hits me right in all of my body because I know no matter what, I wouldn't lie to myself.

When I say something to myself, I mean it from the bottom of my ruthless heart. Yes I am heartless but it's still there chilling, waiting for me to use it from years to years.

I smiled at myself. A smile that rarely happened, that one where you feel pride and it hit you unexpectedly. In the end you sit down and look at yourself as your mind admire knowing you made it after everything.

My smile kept growing on my face. I wiped the dry tears on my face, shaking my head letting it all out. I didn't realize the sun was already starting to rise which reminded me of Alessandro. I got up and jumped off the roof, landing on my feet. I opened the door to the security room for the second time, turning all the cameras back on and making it seem like it was never cut off. It was easy, I took clips from yesterday's footage and that was pretty much it. I got myself out of the room, closing the door behind me. I pushed the chair back where it was a few hours ago. I was ready to go back to my bedroom and stay there until I receive any work to do. However I remembered, My car was here.

I had to go back to my room. I changed my clothes into long baggy black jeans, a black top that showed my collarbone with a leather coat. I love coats if you haven't noticed. I slid my black half boots on with the keys in my right hand. Before I was out of the doors, I went to the kitchen first to get more chocolate and a bag of grapes. I reached the garage, getting in my car and starting the engine, god that sound. I almost melted into my car's beauty, but I got myself out of it and started driving.

I remember when I bought this car four years ago. I got it for myself on my twentieth birthday. I didn't just buy it though, I built it.

It was destroyed, crashed into one piece. It would have been easier to buy one that's ready to take on the road. However, I wanted to build my first ever car myself. I took the car in my garage and worked my ass off for months, buying parts and spending tons of money to get it back to life. I was so excited with the results, it was beautiful and sexy if you ask me. Every time I get in, take it once more on a ride it feels just like the first time I was able to drive it. After months and years of waiting and being patient, I finally had my dream car.

I have many other cars and motorcycles all around my houses, as I said before they were my passion. Fixing them, turning them into something useful was a thing I enjoyed doing. I didn't do many things that felt peaceful other than fixing cars, working out, going on missions, buying guns and most important-wait what.

I was cut off by another thought, yes this is how my mind works. It's like two people talking to each other up there. They stand by each other, never against one another. Although, I do have a lot of things I enjoy, and sure find peace in every single one of them. I titled my head to the right as I lifted my shoulders, not bad.

My head took me straight to another thought. It's crazy how my mind works. I know it's from being lonely my whole life so I became my own friend, filling in my thoughts and I had no problem with that.

I know I'm a great person after all, well maybe. No matter what, I know and slightly sure that there's that kind hearted living soul somewhere in me. You may change but a part of you will always stay and hold on until the last breath because nothing vanishes out of your life. Everything leaves an effect, a memory.

The weather started to get cloudy, good. I didn't enjoy the morning. Nights attract me, I love sitting in a high place, staring at the moon from a distance I probably can't reach. Who am I kidding, I could if I want to.

I reached the bag of grapes I threw on the passenger seat while getting in, shoving a couple of grapes in my mouth. This won't be any good for my stomach later, who cares they taste like perfection. I said mocking off a character from a tv series I used to watch when I was young. Well when I used to sneak into the living room and listen in a low volume so no one wake up.

I don't watch Tv neither stay on my phone for hours. Although I use a lot of technology for hacking. I have a lot of skills down that road, let's not discuss it right now.

I watched the clouds slowly getting closer to each other. Making thunders light up the dark sky, leaving rain drops fall on my car and then everywhere. It was raining hard, the thunderstorm kept getting louder. If you thought I was going back, oh well. I pushed harder on the gas brake, going faster. I love this, I love the weather. I haven't driven like this in a while. A drive that held meanings maybe emotions, a lot of them.

I don't know what it is, but I felt something. A genuine feeling, something I haven't felt in years. I always knew I got everything under control, able to handle the smallest and most complicated situations yet there was this feeling of peace. I felt pure, like I was just born. About to go through life, not the one I lived but the one I wished for, the one I'm living.

My smile kept growing, making me push harder on the gas brake as the cold wind hit my face while my hair flew out of the window. "You made it, you really made it". I said these words between the sound of the clouds crashing into each other, the rain hitting the glass of my car. These words kept repeating in my head. I am proud, I am thankful and mostly

I AM HAPPY

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