Tied By The Beast (girlxintersex)

Chapter

Chapter 2—love at first fright

Inaya POV

Months on Months ago.

Fatima and I ran inside the supermarket like two wild goats in search of a handle basket. I shoved her out of the way, and her somewhat taller figure staggered into the baby pampers aisle. I swiftly grabbed the black handle basket and slung it over my skinny wrist.

"You can be such a bitch." She pulled on my basket. The metal handle felt like it was peeling off with my flesh.

"Ouch, Fatima!" I complained. "You know they'll adore my potato beef pie more than yours."

"How? When Mom gives me the secret recipe."

"You mean the secret recipe for disaster. Because the margins are usually charred." We were head to head, like two ram goats. Our eyes were blazing at one other, and we held the one and only basket that remained upright in both of our hands. Fatima and I did not grow up as loving sisters who combed each other's dark, untamed, curly hair. We grew to hate each other. To be competitive. My mother made care to show us affection, but at a cost. Whoever outshines the other receives the affection.

"Fatima, let it go. I got it first."

"No way, mom is going to talk about how I embarrassed her in front of her friends." We wanted to impress our mother, so we salvaged anything she tossed to us in the mud. My mother's friends were coming over, and she remarked that whomever made the finest meat pie was the best daughter.

It was an old technique from the book. We had no idea how to break out from this old tactic. We were my mother's tiny toys until she got old and died, which was a long time coming.

"Give that to me, or I'll tell Mom what you did." I threatened.

"I slipped out three years ago." I was five years older than Fatima.

But it always seemed like Fatima was five years older than me. I was the one gifted with a baby face. Fatima, on the other hand, resembled a 35-year-old mother with six children. She was somewhat taller and had a little larger figure. She was more mature than me since she knew exactly what she wanted. Her slogan was: marry wealthy, be rich. They said I was a fool for pursuing love.

"To Derrick's party, now you know how much mama dislikes Derrick's parents." I smirked.

"Bitch." She abruptly let go of the basket and I staggered against the shelves, knocking down a few cans of tomato sauce.

My body sprang from the shelves, and I began arranging the cans as precisely as possible.

"Fatima, you're really crazy."

She approached me and offered any support she could.

"If you had just handed me the blasted thing, this would not have happened."

"Please let me get this one. Mom complimented you all week." I begged

"No can do sis. You know how annoying the cow is."

I couldn't help but snicker. My sister and I only joked when we were talking about Mom. I'm not sure if she dislikes mom. We never discussed our sentiments for Mom or anybody else for that matter.

"Catch you later."

"Where are you going."

"To take someone's basket. Because guess what? That meat pie will be mine for the victory."

I grinned to myself as I walked the other way through the supermarket. Fatima wasn't the best chef, so I knew I had this one. I didn't even have to rush through the aisle to get the ingredients.