Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 112567 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 563(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112567 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 563(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
After I took care of my father, I planned to join Chanel in whatever afterlife she’d moved on to.
Chen studied me. “Lei, do you hear me?”
“Leave it alone.” I pulled out the bloodied, red fabric from my pocket. I’d cut it from the shirt she’d died in. It was wrapped around the wooden dagger that she’d given me during the initiation ceremony many years ago.
I stared at the wooden dagger. The handle was odd. It curved and arched in different places. Someone had drawn on it. The ink was faded, but I could still make out some of the design. Always, I kept the dagger with me, believing in what the ghost told her. It was my protection and supposed to lead me to my destiny.
I just thought my destiny was you, Chanel.
Her property had ghosts. At night, they haunted anyone that wasn’t Killer Crows or from the Jones bloodline. There were many reports of how they toyed with people and drove them to their deaths.
Surprisingly, whenever I snuck onto her estates at night, the ghosts never bothered me. Sometimes, they hid. Every now and then, I would catch flashes of green light here and there. Many times, I heard a chuckle or two. Even a few whispers about destiny and exposing the crimes of men.
But mostly they left me alone as I stood outside of her office’s balcony for hours, hoping to see her.
I put the wooden dagger back in my pocket and took the fabric that I’d torn from her bloody shirt.
I miss you so much, Chanel.
I lifted the piece of cloth to my nose and inhaled.
Duck and Chen watched.
And I could not care less how crazy I must’ve looked.
Chapter two
The Violence at the Door
Monique
My sister, Chloe’s yelling woke me up. “But you liked ten of that bitch’s pictures all in a row like the thirsty ass son of a bitch that you are!”
Banging came next. It sounded like a fist slamming against wood.
It must’ve been my other sister Jo, knocking at the bathroom door. For some reason, she didn’t know how to be chill and silent. Everything was loud and rambunctious.
And every damn day, Chloe and Jo fought over the bathroom.
No. I’m going back to sleep. The alarm hasn’t rung. I should have about twenty more minutes.
Loud knocking ensued.
Come on, guys.
Jo’s voice sounded. “Chloe, get out of the bathroom! I’ve got to take a piss.”
Annoyance rode Chloe’s words. “You can wait. I’m on an important phone call.”
I turned over in the bed, hoping to get a few more minutes of rest.
“Important my ass! Come on, Chloe!”
“You can wait, Jo.”
In that moment, I realized how chilly it was in the room. My bald head and cheeks were cold. I pulled the blanket over my head.
Jo banged on the door, “Chloe, I’m about to piss in your bed, if you don’t open it up.”
“You better not!”
Chloe was seventeen years old, getting ready to turn forty-five.
Meanwhile, Jo was twenty years old, getting ready to turn ten.
“Hurry the fuck up then!” Jo barked back. “You’re not even pissing or shitting. It’s not a fucking phone booth, Chloe.”
More banging came.
Just one morning I would love to wake up to the sound of a hummingbird or the gentle breeze blowing through a harmonious wind chime.
Last night, I’d fallen to my knees, pressed my forehead to the ground, and begged God for mercy. I needed money to take care of everyone. I pleaded for that and some change—some form of escape from the tragedy that had become our lives.
Did you hear me, God?
Chloe loudly returned to her phone conversation. “Timmy, you’re a fuck boy, and I’m not the one! You better stop trying me.”
“Man, I don’t have time for this bullshit.” Jo knocked on the door again.
Chloe yelled, “Then, why are you liking all of her pictures, Timmy? Tell me that. I hate when dudes lie. And she’s not even on my level anyway.”
“Chloe, I’ll do it!” Jo threatened. “I’ll piss all over your bed.”
They would have never done this if Mom were alive.
Groaning, I moved the blanket off me and sat up in bed. The whole time I kept my eyes closed as if that could garner my body a little bit of extra rest.
“I swear I will piss on your bed,” Jo threatened. “And then, I’ll get that red dress that you love and wipe my ass with it—”
“Shut the hell up, Jo! I need some privacy.” It sounded like Chloe kicked the door after that. “Timmy, you’re wasting my time. If you want that chicken head ass bitch, then fly, sweetie. All you do is play—”
More banging merged with Chloe’s cursing.
“Fuck it then. I’m about to piss on your bed!”
“You better not do it, Jo!”
“I sure will!”
“If you do, I will knock you out!”
“Chloe, if you even dream about knocking me out, you better wake yourself up, slap your face, and then come to me with a top-notch apology.”