Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 100791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
He didn’t succeed in selling my aunt to a pedophile, but so many other children did suffer under his sociopathic greed to make money at all costs. Because of that, my parents had to capture and torture him before the fucker gave up the hotel where he was holding the other children.
They busted in there, rescued them, and Corbin thanked them by breaking out of his restraints, summoning the Kings, getting my mom captured and beaten, and then he sexually assaulted her before getting shot in the head by his boss.
That shitstain was vile from birth to death, but no, Mom didn’t laugh and crow about his demise over fucking pancakes. She told me the truth about Corbin, what he did to Kaylee, the other children, and to her while we curled up on the couch late one night. I asked her how she got into this life, and if she ever regretted it... and so she told me how.
She also told me she didn’t regret a thing. If she had it to do over, she’d choose to become a Merchant every time, and the Kaylees of the world were the reason why.
“The law moves slowly, my sweet girl,” Mom whispered as she wrapped me up in her cloud of cocoa butter, flour, and peach shampoo. “It’s all waiting, and warrants, and informants, and evidence, and not making a move unless it’ll hold up in court, and while they’re dotting their damn Is and crossing their Ts, little kids are crying alone in a dirty hotel room, praying for someone to save them.
“It’s the cops’ job to lock away the monsters. It’s ours to burn them and everything they touch to the ground, and I can promise you, the latter is much more satisfying.”
Resuming our creepy walk, I let Mom’s voice fade as I wiped away any expression. “Yeah, I know about Corbin Dumont. What about him?”
“A lot, Genny.” He spat my nickname like a curse. “There’s a lot about him you don’t know. Details left out over Sunday night dinner. You see? Your parents never told you that Corbin Dumont... was my father.”
Again I rolled my eyes. The guy dropped that information like it wasn’t fucking obvious where he was going with this. “Cool,” I dropped, voice flat. “And let me guess, you’re mad at my mom because Corbin’s old boss, Angelo, shot him in the head? Please tell me how—”
“That’s a lie.”
I frowned. “Excuse me?”
“That’s a lie. That’s a fucking lie!” he roared, whirling on me. “Angelo didn’t shoot him, your blessed fucking mother did. She shot him and left his body in an alley. An alley!” Bulging eyes blew away all appearance at calm. “Like trash!”
I edged around him, making him turn on the spot and face his back to the tree root. “Who told you that?”
“Who told me this?” Abraham barked a laugh. “Not Saint Adeline, of course. No, she never had the balls to face the innocent victims she’s destroyed in her reign of terror, and tell them the truth.”
“Hmm. Well, to be fair, she doesn’t have balls, so—”
Abraham snatched his gun from his waistband, aiming it at my head. “You think this is a joke, bitch?” he hissed. “What the fuck about anything of this makes you think I’m in a joking mood?”
I smiled. “Actually, everything about that stupid, fake, gentleman act made me think this was all a fucking joke. Finally, you’re letting your real violent, women-hating, psychopath flag fly. It’s about time.”
“I don’t hate women.” His words were half snarl. “I didn’t hate my mother who was forced to give me up. She was a sex worker, but it was the money Dad made that kept a roof over our heads and food on the table. After Adeline killed him, it all went away.
“We were evicted from our apartment and kicked out onto the streets. When I was twelve, Mom surrendered me to the state to save me from a life eating out of the trash.” The gun shook in his hands. “A year later, she was dead.”
“That’s a sad story.” I inched closer and he subconsciously took a step back, getting closer to that root. “Almost as sad a story dozens of children told the cops after my mother rescued them from Corbin’s hotel of horrors.”
“Never happened.”
“Corbin Dumont bought and trafficked innocent children.”
“No!”
“On the weekends, he auctioned them off to wealthy pedophiles, and let those rapist monsters do whatever they wanted to them!” I didn’t start the sentence shouting, but I was when I finished. Abraham shook his head the whole way through.
“More poisonous lies,” he forced through gritted teeth.
“It’s not a lie. These are plain facts that everyone in the fucking world knows except for your ignorant, head-in-the-sand ass!” I clapped, making him jerk. “Wake the fuck up, Brammy! Your father was the lowest form of trash—exploiting children to make a quick buck. Even the Kings were so disgusted with him, his own boss killed him!” I scoffed. “But that was only after Corbin Dumont sexually assaulted my mother.