𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 - kiara carrera¹

𝒊𝒊. 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑸𝒖𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒔

"GO AHEAD, SHOOT ME THEN YOU STUPID, FUCKING PRICK!"

Tatum sighed as she stepped into the shithole that was the Quinn home. After a day full of smiles and laughter with Kiara, she had to come back to her brother's threatening one another, while their father watched from the musty couch with an entertained grin.

"Hey, Princess, where the hell have you been?" asked Nathan joyfully, pulling his sixteen-year-old daughter to sit on his lap.

"Cleaning the beach with my friend," she said absently. Thomas and Joseph froze and lowered their guns. Nathan glared down at Tatum. Everyone turned to look at her. "And shooting shit up, obviously," she added.

"That's my girl," said Nathan, punching her in the arm. "No pussy, are you, kid? Not like these two. Just shoot each other, you pack of fags. I can't wait to get Leroy home, me."

For a man with only gay kids, he wasn't the most supportive. Of course, he'd never find out about his children's sexualities, though. He'd quite literally burn all four of them alive like they were back in the 1600s. Even his golden child, Leroy.

The Quinns weren't your typical family. Leroy, the oldest, was currently facing life in prison for arson and murder. Joseph, the middle child, got all his money from the dark web, making both smut and snuff films. And the twins, Tatum and Thomas, had been in and out of juvie since they were seven years old. In this family, you were only accepted for doing the wrong things. In this family, if you weren't a criminal, you were made for the streets. In this family, if you didn't have tough skin, you had no chance of survival. Because out of all the people that wanted to come for the Quinns, there was nobody worse than their father, Nathan.

So the children did everything they were told. They robbed, they bombed, they shot, they fought - and all to impress their evil father and battle to be his favourite child. Because his favourite child was the only child who didn't go to bed with a bruise on their cheek. And his favourite child was the one with the most felonies. Since forever, that title had been held by Leroy, who didn't care that his three younger siblings were beaten black and blue. He was just happy that it wasn't him. Because in this family, it was every man for himself.

Tatum rolled her eyes at the sight of the brothers trying to impress their father by pointing guns in each other's faces. Neither one would shoot. They were just setting themselves up for a brutal beating. But when she tried standing up to go to the room the four siblings shared, her dad pulled her back down onto his lap. Wearing nothing but a bikini and a coat, she instantly felt uncomfortable, especially when she felt the hard stick digging into her back. But she couldn't worry yet - it was only five, she still had two more hours before the horror, and if she was lucky, she would escape to John B's before then.

"We've got a hurricane Agatha coming tonight, boys," announced Nathan, who was now bored of his sons' fighting. "You know what that means. Thomas and Joseph simultaneously groaned. "Gunshots are harder to hear in that wind, let's get all the shit we can."

"Heyward's first?" suggested Tatum's twin brother. She shot a glare at him. "What's wrong, Tate? Scared to scare your friend?"

"Our girl's not scared of hurting no one, are you, Princess?" said their father, slapping her back, causing her to sit up straight.

"Why would we waste our time down here, when we could go up to the kook's places?" she said, desperately not wanting to rob - or potentially shoot - her best friend's dad. Especially when his dad treat her how she wished her's did.

"Good idea, little sis," said Joseph with a cunning grin. "Rafe Cameron is due a beating after ratting out our Leroy."

The family nodded in agreement. The Quinns and the Camerons had a centuries-long fued, and each generation made it messier than the last. Leroy was the same age as their oldest son, Rafe, and Thomas and Tatum were the same age as one of their daughters, Sarah. Tatum had only ever met Rafe and the youngest sister, Wheezie, but she had heard all about their bubbly and bitchy middle child. Though, she had heard more about Sarah from Kie than her family.

"Let's go, then, kids," said Nathan, picking up his pistol from the coffee table.

Tatum stood up and pulled out her bubblegum pink one, while the boys got themselves a shotgun each. Each year, their birthday presents were always a new gun. An army knife, too, for their fifteenth. And sometimes some drugs. But mainly, it was a new gun. There was always a gun when there was a Quinn.