This can’t be true.

Father wouldn’t do this. Right? He practically raised us like his own sons. He wouldn’t do such a thing.

Or would he?

My hands trembled as I continue to read the piece of paper we found hidden beneath piles of old encyclopedias. If it wasn’t because of my shit brother who needed old books to use as target practice, this piece of truth would have been buried forever under the piles of garbage.

A contract. A fucking contract. Father sold us off to the men we thought were our client for years. He sold us off. We were nothing to him but fucking assets to profit from.

My brother hijacked the paper from me and read through the details. I slumped to the floor and buried my face in my arms. The betrayal was too much for me.

Moments later, I heard a chuckle. And it bursts to laughter.

“What the fuck is so funny about this?!” I yelled.

My twin brother wiped his tears from the laughter and snorted. “Do you even realize what this means?”

“Yes this means Father didn’t give two shits about us. This isn’t fucking funny.”

“Exactly.” My brother replied. He lit up his cigarette as well as the corner of the paper, dropping it to the floor as it burns to ashes.

“This means... We finally have a reason to kill him.” He grinned as he watch the fire slowly eats up the paper away to smoke and dust. He turns to me with an eerie smile. “Are you ready?”

I cocked my gun. “Let’s fucking do this.”