The key to beginning a good story is to have a prologue. It serves as the stepping stone toward the workings of the tale and provides much needed advice, introduction and maybe even warning for the reader.
My prologue is the warning.
Audrey Chandrasekhar. Corbyn Jean-Rousseau. Tunde Desmond-Adekunle. Aira Ricci. These names mean nothing to you now, but as you advance on they will spark a number of emotions in you from hate, to frustration, to anger. These names mean nothing to you now, but to me they are the five people who changed my life.
These four people are the Inner Circle.
You must have several questions: what is a 5"2, mousy girl like you doing talking about the Inner Circle? Well, I was one of them.
Don't laugh.
I really was. I was a part of possibly the most famous non famous group in the Gold Coast. I went to the parties, the special classes, their houses. I went shopping with them, on their morning swims. I chilled in their exclusive cars, drank their aged wine. I fucked some. I betrayed some. Some betrayed me. One tried to kill me--we'll get to that.
And at the end, I sit in my over-priced therapist's office provided to me by Bovine so I wouldn't sue, writing about my experience as a form of healing.
But enough about the present. Let's get to the good stuff.
Let's go back to when I first got stuck to the cobwebs of Bovine's elite.
ESTÁS LEYENDO
The Inner Circle
Novela Juvenile·lite əˈlēt,āˈlēt/ noun 1. a group or class of people seen as having the greatest power and influence within a society, especially because of their wealth or privilege. Bovine Academy boasts the creme of the crop--the finest education, services and...
