Some Orange Nigga Shaped Like A Dick

I'm undressed and bound to a testing table when my family comes to pick me up. A thick, sharp needle pierces into my neck. A drug is administered into my blood, and the pain almost makes me lose consciousness. Behind me, I can feel a man's cold hands stroking my skin amorously. Before me, several people are staring at me. They point at me and treat me like an educational instrument. I tremble in fear and curl up on the testing table in pain. Three years ago, my brother sent me to Mykorra's war zone to stand up for Yvette Sanders. Those were the three most insulting and torturous years of my life. They burned away my hope for kinship but not my desire for survival. As the hands roam lower on my body, I bite my lip so hard that I almost draw blood. As the hands start to go overboard, someone knocks on the door. "Wendy Sanders, your brother is here for you."

My grandfather is a nationally renowned inheritor of an intangible cultural heritage. Today, I'm supposed to attend a grand ceremony as his rightful successor. However, when I arrive, I see my father's adoptive daughter already standing on the stage. She's dressed to the nines. She holds an award and is giving a thank-you speech, looking moved. In the past, I would've left without saying anything or speaking up for myself. Too bad for her that I'd been reborn. The discrepancy between our statuses is so large that we're basically from different worlds. Yet she has the nerve to claim to be my grandfather's successor and put on a show with what is supposed to be my family's.

The day Yancy Shepherd died, Benedict Page poisoned our dinner. His eyes were wild, and bloodshot, as he watched me writhe in agony. There was a madness in his gaze, but worse was the hatred, a disgust so deep it twisted his face into something unrecognizable. "If it weren't for you forcing your way into our lives, Yancy wouldn’t have died from heartbreak. You ruined us! It’s all your fault!" A photo slipped from his trembling hand and landed at my feet—Yancy at twenty, looking radiant, her smile as bright as a blooming flower. I collapsed to the ground, my strength fading fast like a rose withering in the final grasp of winter. Helpless, I waited for the darkness to claim me, consumed by despair and bitter regret. Why hadn’t I listened to the system and killed him when I had the chance? But when I opened my eyes again, everything was different. I stood watching Benedict flee our engagement ceremony. My brother moved to chase after him, but I quietly raised a hand, stopping him. This time, things would be different.

Three years ago, I was the most promising member of the Scientific Expedition Team. After entering Salakole, I was killed by my fiancé's true love, Vivian Fowler. She stole my supplies, scratched my face, and pushed me off the ship. I died with my second child in my belly. But when the rescue team came, Vivian said I had stolen her supplies and was going to flee. My fiancé, Winston Patton, wrote a report and erased me from the expedition team. From then on, I became a joke. All the people on the team looked down on me. Until three years later, someone discovered my long-frozen body.

A video of my boyfriend proposing to his secretary makes it to the trending topics. Everyone squeals over how romantic and touching it is. His secretary even posts on social media, "I've waited so long for you to appear, and I'm glad I didn't give up. I'll leave my life in your hands, Mr. Emerson." One of the comments goes, "God, this is so sweet. A CEO and his secretary—I ship them!" I don't weep or cause a fuss. Instead, I close the webpage and ask my boyfriend for an explanation. That's when I hear him talking to his friends. "I didn't have a choice. She would've been forced to marry someone she doesn't love if I didn't help her." "What about Vicky? She's your actual girlfriend. Aren't you afraid of her getting mad?" "So what if she is? She's been with me for seven years—she can't live without me." Later, I have my wedding on the same day as his. Our cars drive past each other, and I exchange bouquets with his secretary. When he sees me, he breaks down.

On my wedding day, the first love of my boyfriend appeared and declared she wanted my place at the altar. Sobbing theatrically, she pleaded, "Claire, I’m seriously ill. You have your whole life to be with Evan. Just let me have this wedding." And my boyfriend backed her up without hesitation. "Claire, you’re already pregnant with my child, and we’ve signed the marriage papers. You’ve got everything you need. This wedding? It doesn’t matter." The guests gawked, while I stood there as the punchline of their jokes. But instead of causing a scene, I kept my composure. That same day, I booked an abortion and looked his first love straight in the eye with a smile. "Sure, take the wedding, and take him too. He’s all yours."

A year ago, I was a rising star in the legal world. But everything changed when I uncovered evidence that my fiance's first love had caused an accident. She lured me to an abandoned factory and ruined my face, then pushed me into a toxic asphalt pit and left me to drown. Little did they know, I was pregnant with my fiance's child when I died. After my death, he had the audacity to claim that I had accepted money from a murderer and had fled the country. His actions turned me into a pariah. Meanwhile, he and his precious first love walked down the aisle together. A year later, the abandoned factory I had died in was being demolished, and someone stumbled upon my body in that asphalt pit.

“Why can’t I hit you?” Thomas yells, smacking the belt close to her feet. “Why,” he smacks it on the door above her head. “Why, why” to the right and left sides of her body. Melina trembles against the door with her eyes closed and head tucked between her knees. She jumps, sniffing Thomas’ cologne, and tries to hide more. He’s probably bending down. “I want to hurt you, Melina, but I can’t. Tell me why I can’t. Tell me why,” she bites her lips to muffle her sobs as she fears they will exacerbate her situation. “ look at me when I am talking to you,” Thomas says, grabbing her hair and pulling her head up. “I am- so-r-r-r-y,” she says as she turns to face him with her tear-stained face and bloodshot eyes. ******** Melina Davis was born with the face and body of a goddess. Her heart was as beautiful as her, but it never did her any good. Melina was the most unlucky woman in this world when it came to love. Her first love was an abusive con artist who made sure to exploit Melina's kindness. The second one who Melina felt was genuinely worthy of owing her heart was far more dangerous than her first. His name is Thomas Costanzo. He is the second in command of the Costanzo mafia. He was highly feared in the mafia world. Some even feared him more than the don of the Costanzo mafia. Melina didn't know she shouldn't cross him, and she did. She broke the heart of one of the most feared men on this earth, and now, he is out searching for her. Once he finds her, Melina will wish she never crossed paths with him.

Tristan Moreno and I are asked when we're getting married when we attend a class reunion. "We're undecided." "1st of October." Our answers come simultaneously. His head shoots up, and he looks at me with anger and disbelief. I ignore him and explain to my classmates, "I'm getting married on the 1st of October. You're all invited." I know what Tristan wants to ask me. He and I have dated for eight years, but he's never discussed marriage with me. He drags me to a corner, looking furious. "Didn't we agree to put marriage on hold? Do you take pleasure in forcing me into this?" I pry his fingers off my wrist and say, "You can put it on hold for as long as you want. That doesn't stop me from getting married." He's long since gotten bored of me—he's found a younger woman but thinks he's done well in keeping it a secret. Fortunately, he's not the man I'm marrying.

He smirked, knowing he was on the winning side. "So it's a done deal for three months?" He raised his eyebrows, putting his hand forth for a handshake. I looked at the long fingers and perfectly aligned nails and then at his patient face. Sighing to myself I my own hand into his and ignored the tingles that flowed through every nerve as his fingers curled around my hand and shook it lightly. "Yeah three months." "Goodnight then." He winked, removing his hand from mine and turned to walk away. "Hey wait!" I called out, suddenly remembering something. "You don't have my number." "What makes you think that? I have my ways Smith." And with one last wink I saw him take a turn and disappear from my sight. I let out a long breath, leaning on the nearby wall. Looks like I just made a deal with the Devil. * A sarcastic girl, a cocky guy. Throw in some mystery, murder, filthy jokes, wonderful friends, tons of kisses, secrets, surprises, eye-rolls and a killer on run. And you have got yourself a story never read before. ***So grab a cup of hot chocolate, some chips and a warm blanket and get ready to laugh, cry and bite your lip in anticipation. Enjoy!!