𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐇

Prologue

Family.

A word that doesn't come easy to people like me.

My parents were still in their twenties when they had my eldest brother, Zephaniah. However, previous children were mentioned somewhere down the line.

My so-called mother and father had always longed for a daughter, so when my triplet brothers popped out before and after me, they had gotten more than they bargained for. Once again.

I used to always wonder why they decided to name us in reverse alphabetical order, starting from the letter Z. That's one of the many strange things about my parents, though undoubtedly not the worst.

My parents were never around, even when they were, so we were left under our older brother's care for the majority of the time, even when he, himself, was still a child.

If i remember correctly, the last time i saw my parents was when i was eight years old. I don't remember much about the way they looked, and yet their actions still haunt me.

My grandpa on my father's side was Polish, my grandma Russian, and my father was born and raised in Russia also, which is where i spent the first eight years of my life. As for my mother, she was Italian.

I am one of ten children and unfortunately the only girl, though only seven of my siblings live with me currently, since the eldest two left us for New York.

It was really no surprise that Yakov left alongside Zephaniah. He had always been his little sidekick. Though, with respect to Yakov, Zephaniah was cruel, selfish, and a monster.

Okay, i may be exaggerating slightly. But that doesn't change the fact my eldest brother is a bad guy.

He wasn't the type of person who ever showed affection. He never sought out to comfort us. Sometimes, he reminded me of our father. Only, our father was much more of a monster than he will ever be.

Zephaniah loved to challenge us. He didn't want us to be weak, or soft, or let our emotions get the better of us. He didn't want us to be the naive, little kids we were supposed to be.

He was smart and he couldn't be out-smarted. He wanted us to be the best at everything we did, though not to the extent that we would outdo him.

If someone were to ask me if i loved this man, i wouldn't be able to give them a straight-forward answer. I resent him more than anything, but, when all is said and done, he is still my brother and he is still the man who raised me when our parents failed to.

So maybe i do love Zephaniah, and maybe he loves me and the rest of my brothers as-well.

Maybe in some twisted, dysfunctional way, we all love each other very much.

The problem is, i am much too used to the feeling of being stabbed in the back by those i care about the most. And being stabbed in the back is far worse than someone holding a gun to your head.

In the moment when that happens, you have time to think because it stands still for those few seconds. I know it doesn't seem like it, but, when your life is at stake, you do not have time to panic, and, therefore, you have to figure out a way to get out of the situation. To use your logic.

It's like gambling: you win some,
you lose some.

Or in this case: you free yourself, you get killed.

Getting stabbed in the back by someone is different. You have no way of knowing when it's coming, and when it does happen, you know that you have failed.

You've been cheated, and deceived, and there's nothing you can do about it.

You cannot save yourself.

So if someone were to ask me which i would rather happen, i would always pick the gun...

You should consider it too.

(Edited)