"Everyone has secrets, and everyone has something to hide, but the real question is what are you willing to do to keep yours hidden inside."
When Juliet, Violet, and Scarlet's abusive mother and stepfather were mysteriously murdered. Their lives to...
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S C A R L E T V A L E N T I N E
I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the proposition. "What's the bet?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.
"It's a street race," he replied. "I've bet a considerable amount of money, and I need the best driver on my side. You're the only one I trust to get the job done."
A smirk formed on my lips. The thrill of a street race appealed to me, and the thought of proving my skills was enticing.
"Alright, I'm in," I agreed, my competitive spirit taking over.
"Great! I'll send you the details. The race is tomorrow night. Don't disappoint me, Scarlet," he warned.
"You know I never disappoint," I replied confidently.
With that, the call ended, and I slipped out of bed, ready to face the day. As I made my way to the kitchen, I spotted Juliet preparing breakfast. She smiled warmly at me, and I couldn't help but feel grateful for her presence.
"Morning, Scar," she signed, using the nickname she had given me.
"Morning, Jules," I signed back, my heart swelling with affection for my younger sister.
As we enjoyed breakfast together, I decided not to share the upcoming race with her or the rest of the family.
I never involved them with anything to do with this part of my life. This is the part that I never wanted my sisters to see, especially Juliet. She hasn't been in the outside world for much, and I don't know how she would react to this.
She wouldn't understand it and she would only get worried. At least I knew Violet would understand it, even if she wouldn't agree with it. But I knew we all had to do something to survive. I just didn't know how they did it.
The day passed quickly, and as the evening approached, I found myself preparing for the race. I donned my signature black leather jacket with my nicknames painted on it, along with some roses, black ripped jeans, a checkered tank top, and leather boots.
I put on dark red lipstick and did dark makeup, styling my hair in a long braid. I made sure no one was at the door and sneaked out of the house.
I walked through the cold streets of New York, my boots clicking against the concrete. The distant sound of engines roared in my ears as I approached the gathering of street racers.
I glanced at the racer groups which I was mostly familiar with - The Cobras, The Racing Queens, Hell Racers, Speed Runners, and The golden ones, but there were many more with us.
I was part of The Cobras, and I spotted Kenneth along with the group, leaning against his red car, a cigarette in his mouth as he talked to some other group members.
