Catching Chester
  • LECTURES 82,945
  • Votes 3,234
  • Parties 27
  • Durée 14h 34m
  • LECTURES 82,945
  • Votes 3,234
  • Parties 27
  • Durée 14h 34m
En cours d'écriture, Publié initialement nov. 20, 2014
My grandmother died and left the family fortune to me. No one else. Just me, her favorite grand-daughter.

Yeah. That ruffled some feathers, which I would be fine with, if only it hadn't painted a target the size of Texas Road House on my back. Until my next birthday, if I "accidentaly" die for any reason, the fortune will be divided equeally between all of the relatives that got stuck with a big fat nothing.

So yeah, they are all trying to kill me. I mean, who wouldn't? They've got billions of reasons to see me croak.

I've got nowhere to go, and I can't trust any one I used to know. There is this guy that I think can help me out, Chester, but we don't exactly get off on the right foot when we meet. He's incredibly connected and has agreed to help keep me alive, for a fee. He's so incredibly guarded and secretive that I just want to crack him open and see what's inside that stiff suit of his.

So anyway, the goal is to keep me alive for the next three months.

I think I'm kind of more than he'd bargained for, but we'll see.
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Let me tell you my story, the one about how I died. Don't worry, though. I came back. They say when someone shares their story, they're sharing their burden. Seeking someone to help carry the weight that bends their shoulders, hoping their troubles will float away like helium balloons into the endless sky. Your silence becomes their sanctuary, a vacuum they fill with dust-covered memories. If you speak, do it gently - a nod, a smile, the ghost of a touch on their shoulder. But my story? It's different. It carved its path because trust becomes a luxury I could no longer afford. How could it not, when the one person who swore to never betray me did exactly that? The one who promised never to hurt me, broke me. The one who vowed to stay, walked away. So tell me, why trust anyone else when the person I trusted the most killed me in every way but physical? Until they managed that too. They say the most dangerous predators are the ones who look like prey. I learned this truth through split knuckles and shattered promises, through blood on my tongue and threats whispered against skin. Through playing weak while gathering my strength in darkness. Now I watch him, this self-proclaimed hunter in his own game. He doesn't see he's just another piece being moved across someone else's board. The mafia's golden prince, they whisper. If only they knew what lurks beneath that polished veneer. What dances behind those eyes that mirror the shadows I know so well. But shadows? They're born from fire. And somewhere out there, someone's striking matches, leaving black roses on cooling ashes, drawing closer with every corpse that falls. They call him Pyro. And when that name drops in a room. Well, let's just say I'm not the only one with secrets worth killing for. Some demons wear designer suits. Some victims wear crowns. And some fires are worth burning for. Welcome to the game. Trust no one. Not even me.