Re: Trailer Trash Novels & Stories

The clean hallway outside our home had turned into a disgusting garbage dump covered in buzzing flies. There was a designated trash area in the neighborhood, and everyone here had lived together for over a decade. There was no way people didn’t know where garbage was supposed to go. Anthony immediately exploded in anger. “Who did this? Throwing trash in front of someone else’s door like this, do you people have no shame?” Someone nearby muttered under their breath, “It’s still nothing compared to being the other man.” Anthony immediately lost it, grabbing the speaker by the collar. “What did you just say? I’m telling you right now, Anthony is not an adulterer! The real adulterer is that fake

He covered his mouth and said in a pretentious tone, “Sorry, Stephen, I didn’t hold it steady.” I said nothing and simply reached for the cleaning tools. Travis’ smugness grew as his mouth twitched into a grin. He said in a falsely courteous tone, all while flaunting his pride, “Stephen, sorry for the trouble. I’ll leave it to you, then. Once Vanessa and I finish cutting the cake, you—ah!” Before he could finish speaking, Travis’ expression suddenly twisted, and he exclaimed in shock. I dumped the trash from the dustpan over his head, curling my lips in a mocking grin.

Someone is running, and when I open my eyes, Beast throws Bailey off me. Shock settles over me like lead. It looked so easy for Beast to throw Bailey. It looked like the larger man got rid of yesterday’s trash. “Fuck...” Bailey slowly pushes himself up from the ground after having landed on top of a bush. “What did you do that for?!”

A slop cart was parked right there, collecting kitchen waste from the neighborhood. The smell was something else entirely. However, I didn't have options. I clenched my teeth and climbed inside the barrel. I crouched in the dark and the stench and let the cart haul me, rocking and jolting, all the way out of town. 'Goodbye, my husband. 'Goodbye, Grand Chancellor.' - In the study, Jeremy worked through the last document and pressed his fingers to his temple. A small smile crossed his face as he set down his quill and got up, then headed toward the bedroom.

Bang! Jacob Carlson suddenly pick up the tea cup on the table and smashed it violently on to the floor. His frustration turned into fury. "Trash! Who is trash! Useless pieces of trash! This woman couldn't even settle such a simple matter, she was just a trash!" He roared coldly. "I couldn't believe that this Jate Woods managed to smell a rat so easily. He's not easy to handle at all."

While I waited at the hospital to get my tubes tied, I came across a question that was blowing up online. [What's the cruelest way to get revenge on a woman?] An anonymous answer sat at the very top with thousands of upvotes. [Easy. Become her best friend, then slowly take everything she's proud of away from her. [I should know. That's exactly what I did to the girl I grew up with. [By the time she realized anything was wrong, her parents already treated me like their daughter, and I outranked her at her own family's company. Her childhood sweetheart, who later became her husband, lost his virginity to me in the house she personally decorated for them. [And those twins she thinks are

Rafe gave me a strange look. “She's a Tribrid.” “So?” He laughed. “You didn't see the reports?” “I saw them.” I groaned before he could talk back. “Then you know what she did to that temple.” I stayed quiet. Rafe opened the case and pulled out one of the silver-tipped rounds. “They're saying she destroyed half the Frost Pack temple in seconds. Marcus nearly died. The whole place went crazy.”

I didn’t get a chance, as she was gone before we got up. “Yeah. Well, I returned some clothes, and Clay was leaving, making arrangements on his phone for a threesome.” I wrinkled my nose. “Makayla saw me and explained their relationship. I went home, and well, Trevor was a creep… I understand you know that all too well, and I left for a bar where I ran into Clay.” I shrugged. “Yeah, let’s not talk about him. He’s the scum on the bottom of your shoe that’s best scraped off with a sharp knife.” Reese scoffed, leading the way out of the kitchen with her soda.

Just… Director Bentley Brown and his weird personal assistant, Hillary Clarke. I mentally hiss, flinging my last bag into the car trunk, but Drew immediately fixes it, throwing me a glance. There’s a car approaching—a Bentley GT-whatever. I’m not a big fan of cars or knowing their brands and models.