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There are eight bedrooms, six baths, an office, study, library, home gym, the most fantastic kitchen you could ever imagine, three fireplaces, and a… lounge. I know, the lounge doesn’t seem as interesting as I just made it sound, but I’ll explain later.
I'm distracted from Gina and the ale she’s pouring when I hear something new and startling, coming from a deep yet raspy source across the room. I take a sip from my drink to disguise myself while my eyes peer around suspiciously, and I listen... How am I supposed to look at him without remembering...
and yet we’ve never spoken actual words to one another. And every time I see his eyes, I’m always initially taken aback. Not because they’re creepy, although some would say they are. I honestly think they’re sort of breathtaking. I’m certainly without breath right now… “Abdiel Harmony.” Drake’s head cocks to the side, something smirk-adjacent on his lips,
I actually allowed myself to feel special, as if he was bringing me into their inner circle. But after being dismissed like that, after he came and then immediately regretted doing so with me, I have to assume this is his thing. He gives people drugs, makes them feel like they’re one with God, takes advantage of their openness by messing around with them, and then sends them away.
he’s gay. Alright, then… that settles it, I guess. I’m not sure why I’m disappointed all of a sudden. I have this weird stinging feeling in my gut, like jealousy, and it’s ridiculous. It goes against everything I just said to him… Plus, again, can’t stress this enough, I don’t know this person.
I’ve only ever lived in the States, but it’s not exactly as fabulous as us Americans try to make it seem, or some other countries think it is. They glorify the USA as the best damn place on Earth, but beneath the surface of our shiny, apple pie-scented land of the free is a dark, seedy underbelly; a prism of evils unlike anything God probably ever imagined when He, or She, created the earth.
I witnessed Drake kill that man, in the clearing by the peak. I watched him drag the dude up the mountain, shove him to his knees and slit his throat. It was terrifying in the moment, but even more so were his thoughts. I heard him… remembering things. About his and Darian’s foster father. About their past. Drake killed that man, too. When he was only a teenager. And now, the people deserve to know who they’re worshipping.
“Make a change. Vote out the King!” My voice is so loud it echoes through the trees. I watch the intrigued faces, all eyes glued up on me, and for one very brief moment, I actually expect them to cheer. But they don’t.
Why would they? No one likes beinh told they're brainwashed. Plus you didn't even give them clear reasons to doubt their leader...
I can hear a lynch mob forming in their minds, and it’s scaring the shit out of me. I acknowledge that I made a huge mistake here. I may have just gotten myself killed.
How has the thought not crossed your mind before?! You literally just saw Drake slit a police officers throat like a sacreficial lamb on top of the mountain for simply coming on to their land. What the fuck did you think he or any one else would do to you???? You have like zero self preservation skills. Are you passively suicidal or something?