"Bruce Devinvich. This is your daughter that will be under MY legal care, Bobbi Gustus." Uncle Al said, trying to stay cucumber-cool.
It failed, quite noticeably.
"So your the stupid bitch of a daughter that is apparently blood related to me?" The brute of a man said to me, drilling right through me.
He looked exactly like he did in the dream I had of Uncle Al dying. Tattoos and all.
I still stood by my choice of attire, which got some hilariously strange looks.
"unfortunately for the both of us, yes. And I'm assuming your that mother fucking cunt that banged my mother, took her cash, beat her up, got some tattoos, and made a run for it?" He tried to swing a punch at me. I grabbed his fist, miles before he had the slightest chance to the get even an inch near me. "So much for a father. Running off after raping, stealing, and killing an innocent woman." I said, over the noise of the party.
The noise stopped as everyone turned in our direction.
"Tell me, Bruce, did you fee like a man after shooting Rayna in the head, legs and torso? Is that why you stalked Uncle Al? To come after me?" I said, not caring who everyone was looking at. "That's right, isn't it? Daddy?" I asked. I said 'daddy' so sharp, that if words could take on the shape of objects, it would have been a sharp utensil. I was appalled that I sounded like Cindy. It was like her words and tone...But my voice...Well, the Cindy I knew before calling a truce, of course.
Then the 'hushed' conversations arose.
"Isn't that the Australian girl?"
"Indeed. Albert's niece, right?"
"I heard Lance was annoying her and she took him down."
"So much for him following in his biological father's footsteps."
"Indeed."
"Do you think this is how long lost families reunite in their country?"
"I don't quite know. But if it is, it's quite appalling."
"Quite appalling indeed."
"What are you talking about? I didn't kill no one!" Bruce gritted at me.
"Let me say this slowly so your tiny pea brain can process it; Bull...crap." I said.
"Clamshell, your making me look bad." Uncle Al said nervously to me, from the corner of his mouth as he looked around at the appalled faces.
"Well, what did you think was going to happen when we would meet?" I asked him.
"This!" Bruce pulled out a gun from inside his suit, using his other hand.
Everyone squealed in their posh, over dramatic manner.
I didn't panic. I had a knife stashed in my pocket. A steak knife and pocket knife.
I produced them both, and swung them in circles, in both my hands. I put on a short knife show, then got down to business.
"Bring it on. Bitch." I said to him.
"Yo! Bobbi! Chicka!" I heard a familiar voice shout out to me.
"Pierre?" I asked out loud, but to no one in particular.
"Catch!" He threw me a sword, which I assumed came from a collection that Uncle Al had on display.
"Thanks mate!" I called out to him.
"Well, that was convenient." I thought, as some random party-goer threw a sword at Bruce.
It clattered to the floor. So did the gun.
"Haha! Sloppy moves old timer! This will be so damn easy!"
This would clearly be a fight where either I would win, or literally die trying.
YOU ARE READING
Head Strong.
Ngẫu nhiênBobbi Gustus has had this reoccurring dream of her mother dying. This has happened for a few months. She assumes that it's just paranoia. So when Bobbi comes home to find her mother dead on the floor, she's hungry for justice. Whether or not Bobbi g...
