He had a kind face, and I promised them he could be trusted. I considered myself a good judge of character.
My sisters were sceptical of his quiet ways, so I kept reassuring them. “He is reserved, a loner, and never says a bad word about anyone.”
A few weeks went by, but my older sister, Berry, still didn’t trust him. “I love him!” I would say. “So what if he acts weird? So what if it’s only been three weeks? Looks don’t mean a thing.”
“Well, uh. . .,” my younger sister stuttered. “Sometimes we feel like he has something to hide. He never talks about himself. He’s scrawny, and I saw him wink at Berry.”
Berry laughed and then spoke in that low- guttural voice of hers. “I bet he leads a double life,” she joked. “Or maybe he´s scared you´ll tear him to pieces with those long nails of yours.”
At age twenty-two, Berry still loved to pretend she was a deranged killer covered in blood. She´d wield knives in front of my guests with my sister screaming at them to run for their lives. And my guests would. Once Berry offered an old boyfriend a glass of water. She poured him some from a jug marked “Rat Poison.” He spat real fast and ran for the door. Berry had the nerve to ask why I was always single................................................................
Copywrite Kia Storm
TO CONTINUE READING THIS STORY, PLEASE CLICK ON THE LINK BELOW! XXX http://thrillskillsnchills.blogspot.com/2010/02/bad-blood-by-kia-storm.html
0 comments:
Post a Comment