Purple hyacinth
‼️THIS BOOK HAS BEEN DISCONTINUED‼️
- Sorrow, I'm sorry please forgive me -
Jennie Watts - she was what people called perfect. Perfect grades, perfect family, perfect life but there is a saying never judge a book by its cover. Jenn...
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AGE TWELVE
when I arrive back home from the gazebo I know my father will annoy the shit out of me with a million questions.
Him and his reputation can suck my fucking dick. It's like he expects a twelve year old to rob a fucking bank.
Though I wouldn't mind robbing a bank, it seems fun.
I already tried arson when I was ten.
Yeah that didn't go well, Enzo, Matteo and I got in deep shit after burning Mr Smiths house down.
Unlike Matteo, that sick fuck who enjoyed every fucking bit of it. Enzo and I only came for the ride.
It was fun while it lasted.
"Your father is waiting for you in the dinning room, for dinner." My butler, Francis says in his thick French accent, wearing his obnoxiously annoying butler outfit.
If I hadn't known Francis all my life, I wouldn't have understood what the fuck he was saying.
But he taught me French for a reason.
"Is mother there." I ask.
"Yes, young sir."
"Francis stop calling me that or I'll strangle you." I say walking off to the dinning room.
The dinning room isn't far, but I hate family dinners. Especially since mother always insists on father being present.
I don't understand how someone so fragile and sweet can marry a man like my father.
I enter the dinning room, when two of my fathers man open the door. I walk in to see the table is already filled with different types of food and side dishes.
Father, is wearing his black suit sitting at the head of the table, while mother is sitting on the right to him. Talking about God knows what.
The dinning room is pretty big, you could fit at least twenty more people on the table. The room was white with gold detailings on the wall and ceiling. Old expensive vases sat on different podiums. Each costing more than someone's mortgage.
"Oh Lucas, your finally here sweetheart." My mother says, getting out of her seat and practically running towards me. The ends of her yellow dress trailing behind her.
"I was here a few hours ago." I say, as mother hugs me with her pale, skinny arms.
Mother was beautiful, with her black hair and green eyes. She was still taller than me, though I was only twelve. She was still shorter than my father.
