Unedited.
Biggs POV.
"Mr. Biggs," insultingly greets the bitch in the deep blue lingerie.
Rebel Rose.
The beautiful and bold rebel Rose. She is a walking work of art with her white as snow skin, chin-length wavy jet-black hair, and soullessly deep dark as night eyes.
Plus, she has a shit load of colorful markings, indicating her strengths. I'm not a hater and I've got to keep it one hundred.
The girl is a true beauty.
However, my sperm donor uses to hit it on the nose... Everything That Glitters Is Not Gold.
I believe that saying was meant for Rebel Rose. She is a real bitch. My arch-nemesis, foe, ill-wisher, and my personal favorite, number one hater.
She's had it out for me since we were ten years old and the both of us are a little over two centuries now. Yup! Her hater-raid still live on. Rebel's father was a part of my father's gang, meaning we were basically raised together. We were close once upon a time and I repeat once upon a time but that was a very long time ago.
Our dads used to be real bro's. Not! However, they pretended to be. Rebel's dad and my dad were the epitomes of frenemies. They hated each other guts no matter what they might have said. They did and everyone knows it. Their hatred ran so deep they implanted hatred into their seeds. The very moment that they saw how close we were they played us against one another.
Rebel and I use to love playing games. Both of us were and still are excellent shooters. We are hitter's and our fathers utilized the things we shared in common, against ourselves. They used to call it, "friendly competition," but let me be clear nothing was friendly about the competitions that we were once forced to participate in.
*Flash Back*
"Beretta,"
"Rebel," our fathers called out together.
"Yes, Sire's," we answered in unison while lining up, side by side. Rebel and I are in the yard playing hunters and vampires. She's the hunter and I'm the vampire. Both of us love this game. It's fun. Plus, today is our tenth birthday. Yup. We are birthday twins.
Rebel and I have so much in common. It's like she is my pair. Sometimes both of us tend to get distracted and tune the rest of the world out when we're around one another.
That's how close we are. We tend to find ourselves lost in one another's company unless our fathers are home. Both of us are perfectly aware that we must be on our P's and Q's when our daddies and their gangs are around.
Our fathers or more like drill sergeants and are both very adamant about their children utilizing manners, showing respect, and following orders. If any child of theirs were to demonstrate anything other than what is expected the consequences for our punishment can be deadly and I mean deadly.
Rebel's father just murdered one of her brothers last nights because he didn't follow a direct order. He has zero patience for a disobedient child, even if the child was created by him. Her father is almost just as bad as my father. Almost. I stayed up all night with Rebel, attempting to make her feel better. I hate it when she cries.
A girl with a face like her should never be stained with tears. She deserves better than that. We both do. That is another reason why we are currently playing hunters and vampires, even though we shouldn't. It's dangerous to play games when our daddies are at home.
We learned that a long time ago, but Rebel needs to have fun and I'm going to be her party source. Besides, it is our birthday.
"What are you girls doing," questions my father with his usual creepy voice tone. My father is a scary man. Everything about him frightens me. He's a very tall and well-built man with dark features. Long and dark hair, long and dark facial hair, dark eyes, and a dark soul.
Everything about my father is dark! Everything, including the thoughts that swim around inside of his mind when his children are concerned. We are nothing but soldiers in his army. His minions.
My half-brother is the perfect soldier, but I am not. My father says it is because my mother wasn't his inamorata like Forrest's mother was. My mother was nothing but a fuck to my dad, and I know this because he says it all the time. She was a bad fuck that got pregnant and I'm the good fuck that he will make sure never goes bad.
Daddy likes to touch me, and my mother is no longer around to defend me, everything was better before she left us. My brother Forrest doesn't know about it, but I doubt that he will do anything if he finds out. He's scared of our father too, everyone around here fears daddy apart from Rebel's father.
Rick Rose.
Other known as Slick Rick or more like Sick Rick. He hates my father. So, he hates me as well. I think he touches Rebel as well, but she will never admit it. She loves her father and I hate mine. That's the only thing that we don't share.
"Playing Hunter's and Vampire, Sire." We shout loud and clear for all to hear, just like we're trained to do.
"Who's the hunter and who's the vamp tramp," question sick Rick, while his dark as night eyes roam over my chest. He's always staring at my chest longer than usual and my dad likes to slap me around because of it. He said that I'm an easy whore and everyone knows it. That's why his gang wants to gang bang me. He also said that if I lose any more friendly competitions that he will allow them to do just that.
"I said who is the hunter and who is the vamp tramp," questions sick Rick once again. My heart starts to pound the alarm. My father won't like it if he learns that I'm the one playing the vampire. He's not going to like it one bit. Sick Rick smirks. He knows and I know for a fact that my father now knows too. My heartbeat has given it away. I gulp.
"I said who is the hunter and who is the vamp tramp," he questions once again with a bigger smirk but this time his dark as night eyes are staring directly at my father.
Neither of us answer. Rebel knows like I know that there is about to be hell to pay. She begins to shake, and I must refrain from telling her that everything will be okay. I hate how they play on her fear.
My father's eyes are locked on my face the entire time. I can all but feel his rage flowing around him like how lava flows from out of a volcano during an eruption. He's beyond pissed.
He takes a long swig of the bottle of clear toxin inside of his hands and then slurs, "Answer the question bitch, who is the hunter and who is the vamp tramp?"
Rebel flinches at his tone. Drunk or not my father is not to be played with, but he drinks his toxins, his punishments can be ten times worse. He might even kill me.
However, even knowing all that. I'm still no one's bitch, frightened or not. No one will ever know that they put fear in my heart, including him. I don't care how bad he hurts me. No pain lasts forever. I'll live through it.
"I'm the vampire, Sire," I shout with my head held high and loud and clear for all to hear.
"The vamp tramp," my father yells. He is now standing directly in my face with blazing hatred fill eyes.
"My daughter is playing the role of a vamp whore," he spits, literally spitting in my face.
The next thing I know is the bottle full of toxins being smashed into my head. Followed by my father's right knee slamming straight into my rib cage. Rebel screams beside me but I remain silent, if I scream or cry his punishment will go from bad to worst. So, screaming is not an option. I must take it like a man.
Plus, I said it once and I'll say it again no pain lasts forever.
About thirty minutes later, my father is finally done beating the fuck out of me. My face, hair, and body are soaked in blood, glass is everywhere. Every freaking bone in my body feels like it's about to break at any moment. Rebel is a completely frantic mess by the time that it is all over. Her father on the other hand looks extremely delighted. He enjoyed the show.
"It's time for another friendly competition," says my dad, while cleaning my blood off his bare hands. The other members of his gang are now present, all ten of them. They are also very tall and bulky men, just like our fathers and they all like to stare at Rebel and my most feminine features.
"The rules are simple," my father continues to announce.
"It's a simple game of hide and seek. The two of you hide and then we shall seek, and if you are found. We will get to do whatever we want to do with you, understood,"
"Yes, Sire," says Rebel in between her hiccups. She is still crying. Her dark as night eyes is swollen with red rims.
"I said am I understood," spits my father, while pulling me up off the ground by my hair. Right now, it's drenched in crimson.
"Yes, Sire," I spit through my bloody, bruised, and swollen lip. "You're understood,"
"Good," he says while throwing me into Rebel. I could barely stand up by myself, let alone run. This friendly competition was meant to be my end game. I know it! Rebel knows it.
They all know it. This was planned. "On the count of ten," he says. "One," he announces, dragging out the number one. Annoying bitch! I swear I hate him. "Tw-ooo-oooo-," he says, and I almost fall.
"Come on, B," says Rebel. "You got to get up," she cries. My eyes are also swollen shut but I don't need to see to know that my father and his men are staring at me like I'm a piece of meat. "Come on, B," she calls out again. I can't. I'm too weak.
"Five," excitedly roars my father. He's beyond thrill. I swear I hate that son of a bitch with a burning passion. He's a fucking pig.
"You go hide," I manage to tell her. "I'll find you when the game is over."
"No, I'm not!"
"Goooooooooo," I shout, leaving no room for argument. This is my fight. I can deal with it. I don't know why my father decided to make me the target tonight, but he did. So, I'll be his target.
"Go Reb, now!"
"Ten," my father roars. "Ready or not here we come," he announces at the same exact time that Rebel takes off running. As soon as Rebel is out of sight I collide, falling right into the pile of dirt.
"I guess my daughter is up for grabs, guys," announces my father. I can hear the smile in his voice. "The fucking vamp tramp! How about we show her exactly how we treat vamp tramps?" He declares loud and clear before ripping my shirt off and then pulling my pants down.
*End of Flash Back*
"Hi hater," I greet back while waving my hand back in forth in front of her face. She hates it when I do that. Oh, well! No one cares. "Are you ready to get your ass kicked," I ask? "Again," I just must add-in. Whenever there is a shooting competition among the gangs.
Rebel always wins unless I'm involved. Once, that happens I'm the most valuable player and she becomes my most reliable hater. That's just the way the cookie crumbles. It's been that way ever since that day. .....
Ever since both of our lives changed forever. That day was the first step in the direction of the person that both of us have grown to be.
The lives that we once lived were officially ended and so was our friendship. I don't know about her, but I don't like to talk or think about it and I never will.
"Bitch Please," responds Rebel, while smacking my hand from out of her face. "Today is the day I'm going to kick your ass," she lies through clenched teeth. "It's on," she yells, and the crowd goes crazy.
All the gangs of South America are present, and everyone has their eyes on us. Hunters are competitive by nature. All of us want to be the best and to be the best, you must beat the best. I'm the best, Shooter on this continent and no one is taking my position.
So, of course, they are all praying on my downfall. Keep Praying Bitches.
"Alright, baby," I tell her while pulling out my best bitch.
"Let's go! Show me what you got!"