Let it Rain | Ofelia | Book 4 | wlw

(On-Going)

(Short-Story)[women.loving.women]

Arrogant, mischievous, agnostic, and strangely civilized for a cannibal who lives on the island, the idiot shakes the existence of my kicking cells. Through the grand entrance of my yacht explosion last night in the middle of nowhere but water.

The a**hole cabin crew got drunk and messed up the entire sail. Not the infamous sinking ship; mine explodes. I'm not the type of explorer, but I only used transport that I knew would make me on time.

Then there's this person a grandiose, a master of a self-centered peace of being an a**hole, may heaven forbid. I'm not a fan of being intimate with anyone. I don't have time, and I don't believe in that. The only reason I exist is to continue supporting the Fergusons, all the Foundation women, and its legacy. Looking out for my sister Olivine, whose grieving and, most of all, is for business purposes only.

This one is pretty messed up; one had the guts, one had the nerve to get under my skin at my first glimpse looking at her before I pass out.

Good Lord, why do I exist?

Written /1.13.23/

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