The act was cold, calculating and absolutely stunning. Boris looked on as the blood drained from his proud black father’s face. Drained to never return. It was beautiful. In one fell swoop, Boris had shed himself of years of pain and needless tears and all it took was one ever so casual revelation. Daniel, that was the father’s name, tried to gather enough saliva to say something. Anything! Nothing. The smirk grew. Boris tried to hide the form of it but…. too late, too late was the cry. All sense of restraint had long since passed by. The years had not been kind to Daniel but then, what did Daniel know of kindness? The light in the old man’s eyes dimmed. He… he secretly depended on Boris to redeem him. Of the three, Boris was the only one who was genuinely stable. Marsha was… a disappointment; Felix caused his black face to burn red with rage but Boris… the woman did well with Boris. He was stable. He would help him keep his head up. Right? “Well dad, don’t you want to sa
i walked in the rain with a depraved umbrella and thought "why not" and i did because that's the kind of guy i am - B IS for Stealing