"Bitch, what's for dinner?" Ghost asked. You hurried out of the kitchen, used to being called things like then when your father was drunk when you were younger. Your mother had passed away at a young age, and it was normal for you to be treated that way at your 'home'. "Grilled cheese." Simon's eyes widened. "If I ever talk to you like that, I want you to smack the shite out of me. Do you understand, love?" "Yeah." You said, clearly shocked. "Yeah? Okay. Good. I'll help you make food."