Prolgue

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My mom had me when she was me and my sisters age, 15. So we got the sex talk when we were seven.  But it wasn't your typical birds and the bees crap. Sex. Men want it. And they think you should give it to 'em. She always said you should never give anything unless you're gettin' somethin' in return. You can get two things from sex with a man. Passion or power. You better make sure you're gettin' somethin' otherwise you're getting screwed. Oh and use a condom. It was a really effective sex talk.

"Virginia and Y/N Miller," called the principal from the door, "Can I talk to you in the hall?" He asked with a sorry look.

"Virginia, Y/N..."he started.

"It's Ginny," she interrupted, tired of people calling her Virginia.

"Your stepfather's been in an accident," he told us with a bit of sadness in his voice.

As we walked through the groups of people during the funeral a specific group of whores pissed me the fuck off!

"Have you seen the new wife," commented some old has-been who didn't know "the new wife's" daughter was standing right behind her.

"Who shows that much cleavage at a funeral"

That was it. Who does she think she is?

"And who gossips this much at your age?! I mean seriously, how old are you? 50? 55?" I spat at her as she sobbed harder and stomped away like a fucking toddler.

Ginny looked at me and I just shrugged.

My Everything || Marcus Baker x ReaderWhere stories live. Discover now