Rich Bastard {mxm}

Thirteen.

"Sometimes I wish that money could destroy feelings," -C.T

Christine.

Christine Thorn. 

The bane of my existence. The failure of the Thorn family. The would-be heiress to out ever-so-lovely throne. The reason why my life changed so drastically. The very reason why I loathed Sterling with every piece of me. 

"It's so good to see you," She looked better than she did when she was 18. Her skin was clear and her smile was radiant, her black hair up in a bun as she looked at me. "I'd say the same, sister, but all I want to know is what the hell you think you're doing here." I seethed, gritting my teeth as I clenched my hands. 

"You think that you can just up and leave, not even fight to stay," I took a deep breath to reign my emotions in because I had lost control over that chain. "And then slide back in at your convenience?" I heard Davina step in front behind me, but I could see nothing but red. It wasn't fair. "I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but I don't think you have any right to be standing before me, addressing me so casually. Especially when you're the reason why my life is ruined!" I sneered with disgust in my tone. Her smile slowly fell to the ground, much like my will to live when she left.

Suddenly, I was taken back to that very night, May 3rd, 2010 when I was 16 years old. 

"You think that you can come into my house and smoke, snort and inject yourself with drugs that you bought with my hard-earned money?!" I didn't know what happened, but one night, I woke up to loud screaming, so I tiptoed down the stairs. I stood on the stairs, peeking through the railings to see my father in all of his rage, yelling at my sister who was struggling to keep herself sane. 

She didn't look like she normally did. She looked as if she aged ten years with red and black dots covering her arms. "D-dad, please," Her voice was hoarse as her eyes dawdled open and close. "I'm sorry," She started to cough violently, but nothing came up. I bit my lip, wondering what happened to her. Why was she like this?

Suddenly, a loud crack pierced the air as Christine screamed, falling back against the wall with a hand to her cheek. My eyes widened and my feet moved automatically like the rush of thunder. I could feel my heartbeat rising and racing, but I just knew I couldn't let anything happen to Christine. "The sight of you disgusts me," My father uttered in a dark tone as he sneered at her, ignoring the way that I came to stand in front of him.

"Sterling!" I heard my mother yell at him from wherever she was, but I couldn't see her over the hateful gleam in my father's eye as he stared at Christine and I. "Oh?" He sounded amused as he cracked his knuckles, an evil smirk merging his lips. "Looks like you have the little brat to protect you," He said and I wasn't sure if it was this moment that everything changed for all of us, but I was definitely sure that this was the moment that we all realized that Sterling would never be a father to us again.

"Cheyenne, Cheyenne, Cheyenne," My father shook his head as he rolled up his sleeves, crouching down to meet my life. My lips were trembling as the menacing aura around him began to suck me in. Christine's whimpers began to get louder and louder as she clutched her bleeding cheek, her own eyes holding extreme fear and trepidation. My nails were digging into my skin, scraping with every breath I took. 

I had no clue what I was doing, but it was evident that I was no match for Sterling. As ever scrawny and short as I was, he was a thick-built man and he had it in him to take us all out. The look in his brown eyes was feral like he was some untamed wild animal who had a high lust for blood. 

"I guess I should show you where your place lies in this household, hm, don't you think," His eyes were narrowed as he reached to me, slapping Christine out of the way when she tried to grab me. "Cheyenne?" All of a sudden, a tight grip squeezed its way around my throat and I felt my feet begin to lift off of the ground, all air leaving me. "Stop it!" I heard Christine wailing, but I could only focus on the dark scratch marks I left on his forearm as I struggled to breathe.