What happens when a bunch of killers are forced to live together?
BATTLE OF THE KILLERS is a reality show that follows Betinia Woods, a girl kidnapped and forced to live in an underground bunker with twelve other killers. The bunker is equipped wit...
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JOOKIE. That treacherous son of a bitch motherfucker. What the fucking fuck? FUCK!
His words, "That's enough, my little peach" swirled around my mind like an annoying flee, but it wasn't until he followed up with, "You can't kill her" that I saw only black. It was like my entire essence had been shaded by an inky cloud, raining down droplets of hatred, flakes of disgust and pellets of blackened fury.
Fierce shivers took over my body, every movement in synchrony with the savage rage boiling in my belly, wanting his grimy heart and severed dick in my palm.
"Guess I still got good aim," the traitor said from behind me, tone laced with humor and glee.
Fuck you, Jookie. Fuck you.
Intense agony blazed up the middle of my hand from his shot, cold water splashing around me in soft waves when I repositioned myself on the soggy wheel, trying to locate his bitch ass, but everything was too dark to see.
But then, his signature demented giggle coaxed my eardrum.
My slitted eyes followed the annoying sound to the far right. Soft smoke tendrils cloaked that corner, flowing outward like ghostly wisps on moonlit waters, while surrounding his gloomy silhouette like a sinister halo.
"Get your little dick ass out here," I said, hearing Gmie moan. "And you shut up!"
Chuckling, he stepped away from the duskiness, the glowing pool water flickering over him, revealing that shitty smirky grin that I loathed so much.
A tight black suit formed to his hard body like a tongue on a lollipop. The dark color made his radiant lavender eyes burn like a wild firecracker, sparkling like they would explode at any moment. It was so powerful that my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth as thick lines of delectable goosebumps crawled across my spine like a butterfly gliding on a bright pink aster.
What the fuck was I doing? Checking out the enemy? Anyone protecting Gmie was automatically my enemy. Not to mention he fucking shot me.
A dark part inside of me thrashed like a child with a tantrum. He was playing me this whole time. Bitter laughs threatened to escape from my throat, as I dug my nails into my hand, wanting the pain to be my punishment for being so stupid.
And how the hell did he get over there? I didn't see him walk in... — he's must've already been there. But how did I not notice him then? The motherfucker giggles more than a hallucinating crackhead.
Jookie blew on the end of his smoking gun, a bright grin forming on his lips. "Hello, my little peach. Miss me?"
"Miss you?" I clenched my damaged hand involuntarily, feeling sharp pains go up my arm. My eyes widened like growing tumors, wishing I could slit his throat with my vision. "Are you fucking delusional?"
