jasmine evangeline noble -- cb -- d1

They wanted a boy. Someone strong, willing to bend the world beneath his fingertips and to fall into line with the orders sewn to his heels by a proud father. Oh yes, he wanted a little boy. A beautiful, bouncing boy with honey-milk eyes and lips red as the blood. He wanted a prince to settle upon a high horse, to only look at others down the bridge of his nose. My father wanted to breed an animal just like him. Spoiled. Short-tempered. Sour. Rotten.

What he got were two little girls. What he got was the best thing that'll ever happen to him, not that he knows that. Not that I think he cares. He can't even be bothered to learn to tell the difference between us, to call us by our proper names. Identical we may look, but identical we are not. I swear to god if he calls me Nerissa one more time I'll lay my fist upon the nose that I thank the stars for every day I did not inherit.

There's a difference in the way we hold ourselves, my twin and I. The both of us are deviants, rebels with cherry lipstick stuck to our collar bones but I care less about hiding it. My temper is shorter, fuse almost always lit. Nails dig into my palms and a sharp tongue is always left unbitten at the worst of times.

I can't seem to find the filter that so many talk about. The knowledge to know when enough is just that. There is a sin I wear on my sleeve, my pride. One that I will never swallow, no matter who stands in my way.

My father wanted two perfect girls. Long hair falling below their waist, head ducked and eyes searching the ground beneath his feet. To bow to a man was supposed to be our greatest pleasure. Because if he could not have his little boy well damn, he'd make us the best possible bitches for two others. Two snot-nosed brats whom he wasted no time forcing into our laps.

Awful things they were. Left a sour taste in my mouth the minute he tried to force his tongue past my teeth. And then he left a strong, salty iron as I bit down upon what he so carelessly tried to shove down my throat.

Since then I think he's been scared of me.

And I damn well deserve to be feared.