Kulti

“My schnecke. My little snail, do you know that’s what it means? It’s a term of affection in my country. My love. My snail. I don’t want to waste more time. I have nothing to hide and neither do you.”

The next two weeks of my life could be summed up in three keywords: physical and emotional hell.

In the words of my brother, I did it to myself. I brought the attention of a perfectionist down on me, and there was no one else to blame for it.

In an ideal world, he would have yelled at me and said that I was a lowly peasant in his universe who had no right to speak to him, much less ask questions like that.

In the real world, he made a choking sound.

The fact that Harlow both noticed and commented on Kulti’s big sculpted butt amazed and amused me. I snorted and then I snorted again as we both took a quick peek at his retreating buns. They were pretty perfect. Time and gravity hadn’t affected them at all.

for keeping my thoughts on the game and not on the dumb man people had called ‘The King’. Sure. He was ‘The King’ of every full-of-shit bastard on the planet.

They say not to make eye contact with dangerous animals so that they don’t perceive you as a threat, but I said screw it; I was no one’s bitch, especially not Kulti’s.

What she didn’t know was that telling me not to worry was like telling me not to breathe.

people are going to judge you regardless of what you do, Sal. Don’t listen to what they have to say because at the end of the day, you’re the one that has to live with your choices and where they take you. No one else is going to live your life for you.”

It reminded you that anything was possible.