Nike is a nerd, and a jerk. A jerk that says, does, whatever is the most harmful for a reaction.
Tristan is a player. One that makes up stories along the way with every lover of his, and with multiple people at that.
The two have hated each other s...
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Great.
I look at the room.
Just great.
Aunty house was not my idea, nor was it anyone besides aunty herself.
Dad rented out a hotel for us to stay at while he fixed up the situation of our burned house, but aunty just had to go and ruin that.
She took advantage of mom's weakness of being tricked by her 'sweet' sister-in-law.
I bet she didn't feel tricked, the expenses of living in a hotel–for however long you it would take you could convince the government to let four members of a family have a four room house instead of a reasonable and legally obligated two roomed apartment and then go about it like you didn't practically use the most pathetic form of negotiation that is ultimately in the next year going to be your downfall–swapped with a relative's home, 'thank you, Nora, thank you!'
The streets are not worse by any measures than this place, it's cold, dirty and no way ideal for living. I do not see why we cannot just go there instead of here.
This is far the worst mistake these imbeciles that have created me have made!
Worse than when they legally wrote my name as Nike, didn't realize their foolish mistakes till fully documenting the files and decided to not correct it because it was too much of a hassle.
It's pronounced Nick.
I will stick with it being written Nike. Nick isn't the greatest looking name, not even in its Latin form.
"It stinks." I hold my nose.
"Nike!" mom sneers, "what? It really stinks here!"
"Sure, it stinks, but that doesn't mean you ought to cover your nose like you're going to die if you don't," she babbles about.
"What if I do?" I inquire, smiling.
"Then the less money spent on the piece of trash called you," Wilhelmina says, smirk wide as her nose.
"Mom!" I say turning to my dear mother.
"Wilhelmina apologize!" Mom yells, "why do I have to apologize, he's the one saying nonsense not me!" Wilhelmina snaps, "you're the one saying utter nonsense, not me."
"Are you guys settled?" Someone knocks at the door.
"We're just about to Nora, Wilhelmina is done packing though."
"Good to hear." "No issues aunty," Wilhelmina says.
I roll my eyes. Someone is acting like an attention starved six-year-old, again.
I sat down on the make-up bed: fortunately, I don't have to share a mattress, the only good thing in this hellhole.
Two months till I get my own room, I take off my shoes.
Mom glares at me. "Put them outside," voice too stern for such matters as this.
She's too serious for her own good, it only makes her more stressed.
"Yes ma'am," I smirk.
Her voice cracks as she speaks, I fix my eyes on the white wall facing me.
Mom unfortunately does not curse; I think it would have saved her a great deal of time if she did.
I put my shoes along the other shoes. I smirk at Wilhelmina shoes, I put my leg on it and step on it, hard. It smudges together.
"Hey Nike," Aunty says walking towards me, I plant my leg away from Wilhelmina's shoe.
"Yes, aunty?"
"Could you get Wil get for me; I need to give her something," her right-hand pinkie tugs on her ring finger.
"What is it?"
"I don't think she be delated if I told you, it without her permission."
There she goes with her fanciness, "sure," I say, walking back to the room.
"Wilhelmina, aunty needs you," I close the door behind me.
"Did she get it?!" Wilhelmina says with crazy starved eyes. I shrug.
She runs to the door.
I sit down on my bed; I take out the bag with my strip.
Mom's face rolls tighter, I try to keep my smirk low, I keep my eyes on the strip.
It's undoubtedly inappropriate. I skip multiple pages multiple times just because of its content.
The cover has blood all over it. Mom doesn't care for blood, but she did care about what the story contained, that I do not know because I skipped.
I have no idea how inappropriate scenes matter in a story – maybe this story does not have a story, I should have read its reviews.
I put the book back into the bag. I grab my phone.
I search up the strip's name and click the reviews. I click the one star's reviews; I click the first one.
This strip, filled with a story, did not have a story!
I scroll to the next review.
It was filled with garbage. Nothing but ***, and the description, advertisement said it was going to have both but what can you expect from a strip? Nothing but *** I suppose.
I scroll down to the other review, same thing but more insight into the actual contents, the next, and the next. All the same, "we were promised a story, we did not get a story, just ***."
"Nike, dinner," mom's voice rings in my ear.
"What?" I say, putting my head up, "dinner!"
I sigh, "what are we getting?"
"Curry chicken with rice," she says.
"I don't want it," I say, going back to scrolling down.
I stroll down my notifications, a text.
Tristan.
I direct it to my right, and it disappears.
"Mom, is there something to eat?" I yell. I put my head up but hear nothing.
I swear this family has an issue with questions.
I step up and get out of the bed. I walk to the door and open it.
"Mom?" I yell into the hallway.
"No stupid, there's nothing to eat that isn't curry chicken rice," Shayna yells.
"I'm talking to my mom, not you!" I yell, walking back into the room, I slam the door shut. I walk over to the bed.
I pull into the text from before.
Yo loser, why aren't you at your house?
Yo loser?
I start typing.
Why were you at my house?
I put the phone on top of the bags under the bed, put the armpit smelling blanket up to my body and lay down.
Can't believe I'm going to sleep without food.
𓇼
Still not happy with the ending part of the chapter, but got no ending how to fix it /_ \
