This a two part series;
Let me introduce you to the heir of death, the son of
Of the Devils bitch. A boy torture and raised to be a product of killer haunted by his own demons and had no one to save him until her.
"When a man is denied the right to live the life he believes in, he has no choice but to become an outlaw." -Nelson Mandela
•Joaquin pov•
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Another devious 12months pass and here I stood outside with drink in my hand as seconds pass by like years. This birthday party just to be the same every fucking year . Yet each birthday was more extravagant then the next. A deep prized she paid for the ones she missed. But it was always the same bullshit and it ended just the same. My long rod stuck in some unholy hole and drama-Rama. It was just the way I always remembered it. There she stood the queen of choas standing not to far away but yet too far to have her noticing what I memorized since I was a teen. My mother was what stories were made of; Dalmatians taker, voice taker and the fairest in the land. She always stood tall shoulder back and chest out, she dress if Morticia Gomez was her designer. But it was look on her face that told dark stories her viper eyes tossed poison darts into your soul. When she passed by you felt the cold draft that followed her empty soul. She was a predator and a dam good one. And yet she didn't hunt to eat. There she stood in her over price coffin nails holding her champagne crystal glass filled with sparkling wine as if moments ago blood wasn't dripping from her claws. She mock her over zealous guest with agreeable nods acting as of she hang by their every word but she did not care about their words or even them. She knew something they didn't. Their lives was in her hands. Her predator eyes always wonder back to the dry up boring housewives that's stood by my father. All submissive people stood there as the people who had power latch on to my mother. That was the men. He stood there making jokes as they giggled. But her cold heart wasn't owned by him or anyone. Yet he thinks he can save her .
That pendejo is my father. On the other corner of this ring stood her loyal dog. Obediently standing over six feet tall, chest out like jack up kangaroo ready to high kick a motherfucker. He obediently stood waiting for the queen command. His love for her made him sit and wiggling he's tail at her presence. He could easily kill her but no he wanted her for himself. That Poor bastard She belong to no one. All this drama for what? Fucking shit and rainbows. My mom did this every fucking year. She wanted to show the world her love for her only son. Pfft, but I knew since the moment I landed all those years ago she was trying to make up for the ones she lost. But it always ended the same; Drunk Perez giving me a Barbie to play with. But As long my statue can Saluted it always be taken care of by some tatted woman on all fours. To release my primal urges to do what I pleased in all of her unholy holes.
But no matter how it end for me, it ended the same for Perez and my father. A stupid game of chess & who can can take the Queen. Pfft and no one could.
