Wow! I got reviews! Thanks y'all! And to readergirl of course I'm going to post up priceless..For the third time and this time finish it! Enjoy!

My mother was beautiful. My father was handsome. Together they were the flawless couple that lived down the road with three little girls, two of which were just as beautiful as the mother. The eldest (me) was… unique. My mother met my father while at the airport, he had just arrived of the plane coming from Senegal. He didn't speak a word of English, only French and, she was a French major on her way back from studying abroad in Paris. Their eyes met and it was love at first sight. Two years later they married, he promised her summers in Paris and on the beaches of his home in West Africa and life was bliss. A beautiful cliché. A wonderful fairytale she would tell to anyone interested. But of course, behind the cute white picket fence and closed doors, the promises of unconditional love went unfulfilled. My father was a savvy business man and despite being foreign, black, and uneducated he somehow made a living and gave us what we needed, materialistically speaking. But when my mother wanted affection he gave her his fist.

"People have different ways of showing love." mommy would say.

From what I can remember it was an occasional slap or push with a stream of abusive words. But after the arrival of my youngest sister I was eight and Carrie was seven. Mariana's arrival brought sunglasses, pounds of makeup, hospital food and more lies. By the time I was thirteen my mother had taken us and left, the separation lasted a week. She went crawling back to him, back to his empty promises of change and love. My father never hit Carrie or Mariana, he actually loved them or at least tolerated them, but me, I was his back up punching bag. At ten my mother had me wearing pounds of foundation and lipstick to cover up the bruises and cuts.

"Just stay down next time, Fe, you can't see broken ribs" she would say.

If I stayed down I wouldn't have to worry about the punches, just the kicks. But I always stood up. My sisters never tried to intervene thinking they'd just replace me. For a while I thought like my mother, Daddy beat me because he loved me. A trip to the hospital was his way of saying I was his favorite daughter. But by the time I turned sixteen I just wish he would stop loving me so much and hate me as much as I was beginning to hate him. That's when I decided to try and kill the bastard. I stabbed him. He broke every bone in my body. We both ended up in the hospital my mother and sisters stayed by his side, not once coming to mine. I called my aunt. Told the police what they wanted and needed to hear to lock father up for a long long time and thought finally we would be free, my mother could live.



Instead she hated me. When I left with my aunt she never asked me to come back. She sent me letters telling me of her disappointment in me. Telling me I was the weak, unable to handle a few love slaps. But I wasn't angry at her. I was angry at my father. The man who beat my mother until she was weak and stupid, he broke her. But not me

My aunt was this strong, fierce independent business woman. She used men like toilet paper. She had them eating out of her hand, their hearts on their sleeves. Then she'd wipe her ass with it. I thought she was absolutely amazing that she could hurt so many men. Two even committed suicide. I thought her actions were just. All men are the same, she would say. If that was true then all men were bastards who deserved to be punished, just like my dear old father. I received therapy of course. But my aunt taught me that no man is worth the attention and love women have to give. I believed her. My aunt was a true vamp, a man hater, but I just didn't want to end up broken and stupid like my mother. The best thing I can do is follow my aunt's advice.


My father was Handsome. My mother was Gorgeous. The Devereux men are known for being charming rogues, but always settle down sooner or later with a nice little wife from a well to do family. We are business men first, a father and husband second. Showing too much affection was a sign of weakness. My father was the exception. He was a disappointment to my grandfather from day one. He was sensitive caring and backwards. He put his family first and the family business was last. My mother was a people pleaser; enigmatic and destructive, with beautiful fiery red hair and sparkling green eyes. She tried being the perfect wife and mother, but she wasn't the mothering type. She enjoyed spending my father's money, throwing lavish parties and ignoring her kids. My grandfather was the kind of man who treated women like children, seen and never heard. My mother went against every rule a woman was supposed to be in his book and my father absolutely adored her. He thought his love was enough for both of them.

When I turned fourteen, my mother and Aunt became very close. My aunt was the kind of women that burned her bras and bit men's heads off all in the name of feminism. But I thought she was amusing especially in the same room as my grandfather. She would spend the night when father was on business meetings. We thought nothing of it. My father was thrilled about their friendship.

But they were more than friends. It was summer and my father was away on a business trip in Japan. Of course my aunt had come to visit and it had been a good day. One of those days when mother had tried to act like she cared about her offspring. It was around midnight and I felt as 

if I were roasting in hell laying in my bed with the window completely open and in the nude, sticky hot and my mouth was dry.

I was going to the kitchen for a drink, passing my mother's room I could her lots of movement and whimpering, I ignored it, but on the way back up the whimpers had turned into something else...something like moaning. I cracked the door. It was dark, but the moonlight was just enough to see a head of red hair in between a pair of slim legs. In shock I didn't look away. When the body underneath my mother's lips raised its head it looked just like my aunts even in the dark. I watched in shock afraid that if I blink my eyeballs would burn out of my head. I watched for five minutes when I felt a shadow fall upon me and a presence behind me. I finally turned around and was surprised to see my father, his face blank his fist balled. Knowing what was about to take place I shut the door and went to bed. I didn't sleep, I didn't hear arguing, only silence with the occasional breeze passing through the trees into my room. I woke up before everyone else and went in search of my father and found him in the guest room an empty bottle of pills cold and still.

I went to my mother's room, unfeeling, finding her wrapped in my aunt's arms. I watched them softly sleeping in bliss. Aware of my presence my mother opened her eyes

"Women do everything better than men, son, including fuck. Men are good for only their money. "

I was so angry I spit at her, no matter how much I wanted to I couldn't punch her. I had come from this woman, unfortunately, but I felt no sort of love. I hated her everything she was. And she was a woman.

Soon my father's body was discovered by the rest of the family and my mother put on a good show. My aunt moved in telling everyone it was for support. I moved out and lived with my grandfather. He was cold, and ruthless, but at least he didn't have a vagina. To this day my aunt remains in my father's house with my mother for support of course. I never spoke to them again after the move.


A month had gone by since the beginning of school and the discovery of Fiona's virginity. The two neighbors barely spoke only calling each other their respective pet names in passing. Fiona was the darling 'cunt bitch' while Nathans was the creative 'bastard cock sucker'. In retaliation to his cruel words Fiona had taken Nathans toothbrush and pissed on it (while she was on her period), rinsing it out lightly, she didn't want to wash out the flavor. And the two neighbors 

went on hating each other. Fiona with her plans of bringing the vagina monologues to campus, and Nathan crushing the heart of one more female admirer. Life was normal, all was balanced.

But alcohol has the power to wreck any semblance of normalcy. Hatred and booze are a horrible combination.

Ok. So I know not a lot of romance and interaction, but I thought I should explain why they are the way they are. So uh yeah please please review and I'll love you forever! I'll update soon and it'll be full of Nathan and Fiona interaction. Thanks y'all for putting up with my crappy writing. I'm looking for a beta reader.