Paid Boyfriend Brother Ketos

1. Home Bitter Home

Fionns

"You, tuh, if you choose jxlang, yes, about, dong! Not the classy even a lowly woman like that. What's wrong with you, huh?!"

Fxcking. I have just taken five steps into this house. Time is about to turn into hell again, huh?

I laughed bitterly at my own thoughts. When did this building ever become my home? Two people who built this house just his attitude to the devil is one-on-one. What do I want to expect again? Satan, ma'am, will always be Satan. They will never turn into angels. So humans are not.

"What the fxck, Mona? You think I'm wrong for cheating? You think I picked the wrong one? Are you crazy?! You should be thinking why your husband is looking for another woman out there instead of being busy blaming others!"

I laughed again, but now for another reason. Even a spurt is also because of something that is really worth laughing at. Even after twenty years of living in Indonesia, my German tongue still can not adjust to Indonesian. And that's what I always thought was funny.

Or, is it just the result of my attempt to trick myself? Let there be something that can be used as an excuse to be happy in the midst of this clusterfxck called the Haas family?

Hm. Maybe so too.

"You're wrong, so the husband's not dirty!"

"No becus how do you mean, ha? Look around you, you ungrateful woman! Look at all your clothes, the jewelry hanging on your body, the cards in your wallet. Who do you think all that money is from? From those leeches? To Donnerwetter! They're just using lonely old women like you!"

I don't know where they are fighting. With a house this big and empty, they can do it anywhere and nothing will interfere. The staff who take care of the house will certainly choose to hide with rats and cockroaches in the corners of the house rather than having to be trapped in a situation that I think is really, really, really boring.

How not? Shows like this happen every time they meet. And, despite admitted to hating each other, my parents met quite often.

I became suspicious whether shouting until the throat itches and talking to each other with the name of an animal is a foreplay for them. Hm.

But ... no. Then the case, there's no way Mom and Dad have side dish each, right?

Eeeews. Shxt. Why am I talking about that, anyway? Now I'm gonna be so sick.

"Shut the fxck up, you son of a bitxh!"

"You stop deinen Mund, from Miststuck!"

Oh, come on. Can't they be more creative? Would telling each other to be quiet would make one of them win? Yes, even in different languages, but .. please. Get creative, you guys. What you say stays the same.

Lame.

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, really."

"Great!"

"Magnificent!"

See, right? They really suck at the fight m

"Sure, sure. Go there! Geht mir am Arsch vorbei!"

Nah. Start outside again mother tongue her bokap me.

"You always don't give anything shxt to anything or anything in this house!"

I'm the one who likes attention, Mom. Always the most attentive.

"Oh, no. Not this pile of crap again."

See? Dad agrees with me.

"Whatever! I'm leaving!"

Ah, ah, ah. If you want to go, yes, just leave. Don't you have to say it. Mom would secretly want to be prevented, huh?

"Geh zum Teufel!"

Duh, Dad. You can do better than that.

Hm. Without them realizing it, they had already made this place worse than hell. So, to tell Mom to go to hell is arguably a gift for the woman who gave birth to me.

Maybe I should stop listening to this broken radio broadcast. Maybe I should run away before one of them knows where I am. Maybe I should just turn right before I'm held captive and die of boredom in this house.

Bored. Fill a three-story house with Mediterranean style that is highly praised by the magazine architecture and design of this national scale house is just that. Cheating husband. A wife who does not care about her family and prefers to shop and play with men who are much younger than her. The boy who ... I don't know, like traveling to his friend's house?

Ahah! Yeph. Is correct. A boy who likes to visit his friend's house. And that's what the boy's gonna do now.

I turned right and went back to where I came from. Just crossed the front door of home—shxt, I didn't realize that I could hear the broken radio broadcast from the foyer. They must be in between the main living room, living room, and living room. Not further from the living room if I had to guess from the clear sound I heard.

Just crossing the front door of the house, I then push the key fob to unlock the door Bugatti Chiron that I parked on the terrace. I hurried down the stairs and got into my beloved car.

Cherie.

Fxck. I am very fond of this car is not because the price is em-eman. Nope. (Despite this fact, it gives me an ego boost. Uh.) However, I love Cheri because ..he was the only one who faithfully accompanied me through the days of drama and radio broadcasts that broke it during these three years.

Before Cheri, I used to be accompanied by PlayStation games which, along with the rising intensity of drama shows and broken radio broadcasts in my home, became less and less exciting. Hence, after Dad granted my request to drive my own car to school, it was like finding my soulmate. Gye place complaining. Where I lean. A place that can provide me with entertainment.

Mon cheri.

After giving him that name, then I repaint the exterior of this car with cherry red. Let it be harmonious too. Yeah, no, huh?

I made Cheri roar once, twice, as soon as the engine was on. Oh, man, how glad I am to hear that voice. Not like the sound in there.

Connect ....