Itachi Middle Finger

Limang taon. Limang taon na minahal ni Jazz ang isang lalaking hindi naman siya pinahalagahan. Lahat ibinigay niya—oras, tiwala, at puso. Pero isang iglap lang, nawala ang lahat. Isang car accident ang bumura ng kanyang alaala. Pagmulat niya ng mata, wala na ang babaeng marunong magmahal. Ang natira na lang ay isang estranghero sa sariling buhay. Nagkaroon siya ng amnesia. At habang wala siyang maalala, ang dating kasintahan niyang si Damon ay wala ring konsensya. Sa halip na umamin sa kanilang relasyon, niyakap nito ang kanyang nakababatang kapatid na babae at iyon ang ipinakilala nitong kasintahan. Itinuro nito ang telebisyon at walang emosyon na sinabi, “Iyan ang boyfriend mo. Siya ang habulin mo.” Nalito si Jazz. Pero naniwala siya sa sinabi nito. At sinunod niya iyon. Ang lalaking nasa TV ay si Malachi Robles— ang CEO na tito ni Damon. Malamig. Tahimik. Hindi madaling lapitan. Mula sa isang kasinungalingan, nagsimula ang isang habulan. Isang babaeng may amnesia. Isang lalaking hindi niya dapat mahalin. At isang katotohanang handang wasakin ang lahat kapag nabunyag.

WARNING!!! May bembangan dito, bawal sa mga minor.. Iwasang magbasa kung feeling mo, demure ka! Kapag di mo bet, skip mo na lang, pero pag bet mo, eh di go!!! Isang misteryosong lalaki, ang naghanap ng isang babae, para magkaanak naturally. Meaning, eh di ano pa nga ba.. alam niyo na yun!! Kinakabahan si Roselynn habang nakapiring ang kanyang mga mata, at nasa loob siya ng isang mabango, malamig at magandang silid. Bagong paligo siya. Sinabon niyang maigi ang kanyang "bataan!" "Lord, bakit naman kasi ngayon na agad? kung kailan hindi ako nakapag shave?" Saka nanlalamig ang kanyang kamay, ng marinig niya ang langitngit ng pintuan.. "Wag kang matakot, wala akong gagawing masama sayo.." grabe ang boses ng lalaki, parang pang DJ! Sa isip isip ni Roselynn, "eh di wow, ikaw na! bebembengin mo ko, kukunin mo ang virginity ko, tas wala kang gagawing masama? OMG!" "This is it! magready ka na.. aararuhin ka na niya.." kasabay ng isang dalangin na sana, hindi siya masyadong masaktan.

“Alam ko kung ano ang pinagdadaanan mo,” sabi niya kay Hannah, habang nakatitig sa mga mata nito. “Alam mo?” napamaang na lang si Hannah ng marinig ang sinabi niya. Ang mga mata nito ay unti unting nabasa na parang binubukalan ng tubig. “Oo– alam ko ang lahat ng nangyayari sayo, Hannah.. At marahil.. Natatandaan mo na kung sino ako,” sabi niya sa babae. “Ni-ninong Edward–” halos pabulong lang ang tinig na iyon, subalit puno iyon ng pagsusumamo at parang paghingi ng tulong. “Anong nais mo?” tanong niya kay Hannah, determinado siyang tulungan ito sa abot ng kanyang makakaya. “Nais ko silang magdusa.. At magsisi sa mga ginawa nila sa akin. Nais kong lumubog sila at masaktan, gaya ng mga ginawa nilang kahayupan sa akin ninong. Gusto ko silang gumapang sa putik kung saan sila nagmula. Nais kong bawiin ang lahat ng pag aari ko!” umiiyak nitong sabi sa kanya. Nahabag si Ed sa babae. Pinagmasdan niya ito ng husto. "Pwede kitang tulungan, pero may kondisyunes ako sayo.." sabi niya dito. "Kahit ano ninong, gagawin ko, sabihin mo lang!" determinado ang mga mata ni Hannah habang nakatingin sa kanya. "Pakasalan mo ako.. Nais kong magkaroon ka ng karapatan sa kayamanan ko, upang makalaban ka ng patas sa kanila. Sa papel lang tayo magiging mag asawa hannah.. nais ko lang na makapaghiganti ka.."

When my parents got old, they needed someone to take care of them. Katerina—my younger sister—was off to Amiraka with her smug husband Chris. Meanwhile, I was crammed into a two-bedroom in Bellavaro with my husband Pavel, who drove a taxi. Mom had no retirement savings, so guess who she dumped herself on? Yep—me. Dad took the cash and ran straight to Katerina. Our place was tiny, but we still gave Mom the master bedroom. She hated it. Constant complaints, constant drama. According to her, life with me was pure misery. Every night, she'd hop on video call with Katerina, gushing about Amiraka like it was heaven, while throwing shade at me for not "taking care of her properly." Meanwhile, I was drowning—trying to hold it together for Mom, help my daughter prep for exams, support a husband with spine problems, and check in on aging in-laws. Mom didn't care. She wanted a plane ticket to Amiraka to party for Katerina's birthday. I snapped. We had a blowout fight, and she collapsed—brain hemorrhage. Even in her hospital bed, she stared me down, whining Katerina's name like a broken record. Then she spat out, "I should've never picked a useless daughter like you!" My chest cracked in half. I blacked out. When I woke up—I was ten years younger. Back to the day they decided who'd get stuck taking care of them. This time, Mom didn't wait. "I want Katerina to take care of me. It's my turn to enjoy life!"

I was reborn. Right back to the day I adopted Peter. The wind cut sharp, baby cries slicing through the cold. That's when it hit me—this was the day Stuart Pete, my oh-so-loving husband, dumped his illegitimate child right in my path after work. He knew me too well. The second I picked the kid up, he'd spin it into an adoption, making the boy ours. Last time, I fell for it. This time? I walked away without a second thought. Later, I heard the kid got pneumonia from being left out in the freezing cold—fever so bad, it wrecked him for life. I laughed until my stomach hurt. What I didn't see coming? Peter was reborn too—about to experience the life he was meant to have.

In my previous life, my three sons told me they wanted to set up a Family Bond Fund for me. Each of them would deposit three thousand dollars every month. I cried with gratitude, truly believing that decades of sacrifice had finally paid off. One of them even said, "Mom, you've given us so much. It's our turn to take care of you now." However, eight years later, I was told I have uremia. That was when I discover that the bank card, which supposedly held the fund, couldn't even cover the dialysis deposit. Soon after, my eldest son video-called me. He said he wanted to buy a better apartment in a good school district. He was short of 150 thousand dollars for the down payment and asked if I could lend it to him first. My second son came to the hospital with his wife and daughter. He didn't ask about my condition at all. Instead, he kept showing off his daughter's piano competition trophy, hinting that he needed 50 thousand dollars to enroll her in a prestigious international piano program. My youngest son was even more straightforward. He said he had his eye on a limited-edition pair of sneakers and wanted me to pay 30 thousand dollars for them as a birthday gift. The moment they realized the bank account didn't have enough money, their faces fell. "We each put in three thousand dollars every month. Over eight years, that's at least eight hundred thousand dollars. Mom, are you hiding the money from us?" To force me to reveal my savings, they took turns pressuring me, switching between sweet talk and threats. They even told relatives that I had dementia and had been scammed out of my money. Unable to take it anymore, I yanked out my IV late one night and walked out of the hospital, only to be hit by a car, dying instantly. When I open my eyes again, I find myself back on the day of my hospital checkup.

The Horror Game invaded the world. Real players entered the game, and their every move would be broadcast live. My adopted son shoved me—an eighty-eight-year-old woman—straight into a deadly dungeon to save his own skin. One of the comments in the live stream predicted: [What? They’re tossing in such an elderly woman? No way she’s gonna survive the first night!] On the first night, a frost-bitten ghost exhaled icy breath in my face. I shrugged off my thick floral coat, feeling sorry for her. “You poor thing! You must be freezing. Listen to me and bundle up quickly!” The second night, a starving ghost lunged at me with blood dripping down his chin. I sniffed the air, then found a jar of pickled cabbage. “Look at how skinny you are! Come on, let me get you something hot to eat.” On the final day, the last surviving players tied me up, desperate to steal the one ticket to escape. However, before they could touch me, every ghost in the dungeon came storming out, cleavers and rolling pins in hand. “Touch her, and you’re dead meat!”

By year's end, I'd closed a huge deal and snagged a $2.5 million bonus. The company even sent me on early maternity leave—nice perk for being eight months pregnant. Pauline found me lounging on the couch. "Why aren't you at work?" I cracked a joke. "Got fired. Guess I'll be stuck here playing housewife." Her response? A slap across my back. "Then get off and do the laundry! You're having a girl, not a son, and you think you can sit around like some princess?" My husband, Logan, walked in right then. He just pulled her into the nursery. Feeling hurt, I switched on the hidden cameras I'd secretly installed. I thought maybe he'd defend me. Yeah, no. What I uncovered? It was so much worse. Twisted secret after twisted secret.

After they had divorced for 5 years, when Adina accidentally saw her ex-husband, Tyson, and Sophie, who broke her marriage, she gave them a middle finger, which made Tyson chuckle. The next morning, Adina woke up and found the man sleeping beside her was her ex-husband, Tyson. They had last night!!! Mary cursed herself and sneaked out of the room. Then she met Sophie , she threw the cash on her face and said mocked, "Thanks for your fiance's HARD work last night. Here is what he deserves."

“Who would have thought goody two shoes Tatiana Olivera is a nasty sl*t who fantasies about f*ck*ng her step brother?” Hasan continues his teasing. He inserts in middle finger in my mouth and I greedily s*ck on it, picturing it to be his c*ck. Hasan’s mouth parts open, his brows cresting as he watches me s*ck his middle finger like a kid sucking on a candy cane. I frowned when he pulled out his middle finger. He grabs my chin with a fierceness that sent me on edge. “Open your mouth.” He orders and I obey. He takes in a deep breath as though calming himself and before I knew it, hot liquid drops into my mouth. Did.. did he just spit in my mouth? It tastes divine. It tastes like him. And I want more. “Swallow.” I meet his gaze as I gulp down his saliva. A proud smile appears on his face. “There’s my good little sl*t.” ***** I hate Hasan Olivera. I can’t stand him. The way he walks into the room like he owns the place, the smug smirk that says he already knows what I am thinking. He’s insufferably cocky, sharp-tongued, insanely hot and fully aware of it. And those eyes? Dark, knowing, endlessly amused by the fact that, no matter how much I pretend otherwise, I’m completely drawn to him. I want him to f*ck me. I want him to claim me. I want him to be mine because I belong to him. But he's my step brother. And I hate my step brother. -------