Zero and Beauty's Breath (A Satan Sniper's Motorcycle Club Series Book 3 - 4) novel Chapter 10

Kylie and I are sitting in the kitchen. Eating two trays of mini Taco’s she ordered from this new place not too far from B-Street.

She likes to bring different food all the time. Even though she cooks up a storm.

I eat and don't complain.

Truth be, I think I have eaten more here than I have eaten my whole life. Even at the clubhouse I hardly ate anything extra than the three meals I was given.

It just didn't feel right to take their food and eat it when I wanted.

These past months since I have left The Satan Snipers I've lost a lot more weight than nI SHOULD have.

I know I look like a skeleton with flesh on bones. If I am honest I could say I have looked a lot more scary.

By Kylie's house, we are both always eating, buying food, or making it.

Well, she does the cooking and I just clean the mess. There is nobody else here besides Vincent, Kylie and I, so we have to eat it the and we do.

I know Kylie likes to eat, she isn't a skinny woman, but I know she eats more now and makes it a habit so I do the same.

I eat until my stomach pains from fullness everyday, my body is more used to it now. I haven't picked up much weight but that should change if I keep up this eating.

At first when I got here I wasn't able to eat. My throat was fucked. I didn't realize it at the Sanati Palace, but my shock collar was sizzling.

It burnt through my flesh around my neck. Not sure why I didn't feel it at the time. I was shot and stabbed.

The pain from the wounds on my body must've taken priority in my brain.

I don't know, don't care really.

It is just another scar to add to my long list of others.

The worst are the ones you can't see on the surface, those ones you are unfortunate if you get to see them at all.

I let her do my hair today, she said it wasn't perfect but it felt fucking amazing, light and fluffy.

“So, what would you like to do today?” She asks.

It isn't the first time that our resemblance is almost shocking. I am the beggar version of Kylie Bray. The damaged end of the stick. Our hair is both black and her eyes though dark brown and mine are black it is similar shape. Except for our noses, mine is sloped, showing my Italian heritage, hers is straight and perfect.

“What do you think we should do,” My dry, damaged voice answers with a question of my own.

I like her to have the options. It is the only time I get her to lose the frown. The last time I saw Kylie she was a few shades of lightness and an equal amount of darkness.

She had a constant smile on her face, and her brown eyes twinkled. Now she walks around here like the world is on her shoulders.

For a young girl like herself, who has all the luxury money could buy, she shouldn't have to carry such burdens.

I used to think that money was comfort. A false sense of comfort, but now, these weeks with Kylie, a young woman who has all the money she could possibly ever want I know I was wrong.

The money suffocates you, it deludes you to a false sense of acceptance until you start hating yourself.

You start to burn up and use it as a shield.

But only when it is too late do you realize that shield is weak.

It is just paper used to exchange for material things.

It can't offer you emotional solutions. And I think this is where Kylie is.

She is learning that material things are only comfortable when you accept that it will never bring you happiness only leisure.

“Ever played archery?” She questions with a smirk she could only do.

Her one eyebrow lifts, and the side of her face transforms to something akin to evil yet playful. Her eyes, they tell me so much and mine widens and it is the first time in a long time I smile.