fight for me

one: british debacle

"too many bottles of wine we can't pronounce, to many bowls of that green, no lucky charms, maids come around too much. parents ain't around enough. too many joy rides in daddy's jaguar, too many white lies and white lines, super rich kids which nothing but lose ends, super rich kids with nothing but fake friends. "
- Super Rich Kids, Frank Ocean ft Earl Sweatshirt

. . . . . . . .

it was the annual, "world-famous" (as my stepdad likes to call it) 'Lore Ball'. where we and other crime families and world renowned criminals celebrate all our riches, that we stole, and act like it's ok.

nothing but crime and scandals and the welfare we take from others as stupid trophies and victories.

my family owns the 'The Vipers Club', a classic San Jose gang, feared by everyone and anyone, that's been stealing riches and lives since the 90s,

and I'm sadly a part of it. my whole life.

half of the people here have had sex with the person on their left and have almost killed the person on their right, what madness. 

and lucky for me, as the next lady in line in the Lore family, i am to be betrothed to, or in simpler terms, "picked", to be the next wife to whatever horrible, money-hungry, blood chasing alpha bro is to be the new executive of my family's criminal organization.

so I just have to be here.

i sigh in this tight fabric i'd rather use as curtains then clothing. i sport a deep plum-coloured dress, mermaid built with a slit down the right side and made in silk. thin straps brace around my shoulders next to my diamond pendant locket. a gift from my father.

My black hair is straightened and tucked behind my ears. My hands lay on my champagne glass holding no-name brand apple juice that tasted like sugar and weirdly, blood.

i gaze around the ballroom and identify the murders that stand before me as i stand in the corner waiting to be called and it is announced who my future husband to be is. i'm barely 18.

i've always wanted to go to high school. to have a crush that doesn't have a body count...the murderous kind. to have friends, also not the murderous and ones i don't have to wonder whether they're a double agent sent to kill me or not. to have room to make mistakes,

to get hugs.

but i've realized that can never happen. i guess. my life is to my family's legacy and legacy only. happiness, love,

it just isn't on my agenda.

the hair in my neck suddenly stands in warning.

"Well hello, gorgeous," a familiar british voice says from behind.

my face turns to disgust as I realize who's taunting voice that is.

i turn and smirk at his upsettingly perfect lips.

"Well well well, I thought my birthday wish actually was about to come true," I say

"Oh? You missed me that much?" He raises an eyebrow as his smirk grows larger

"Oh no Nate, my wish was for you to never come back, but sadly here you are." I retorted

a throaty and low laugh comes from his mouth as his adam apple moves up and down.
i frown, looking for a way out of this conversation.

"You know, that retreat I went on with all the other potential suitors for the Lore dynasty and your father-"

"Step-father" I correct looking him into his deep hazel eyes.