My heart pounded as sweat ran down my face, mingling with the tears I couldn’t control as my situation sank into my brain.
My dad, who I loved, who I thought loved me, had sold me in exchange for his gambling debt to be wiped clean. How could he do that?
My dad glanced at me one last time, pain in his eyes, before he turned and ran down the alley.
The man behind, tugged me toward a black SUV, but I struggled and tried to dig in my heels, my eyes still on my dad as he ran and left me with these assholes.
At the SUV, another man tried to grab my legs, but I kicked out and heard him curse as my booted foot slammed into the man’s jaw.
“Hold that fucker,” the man growled, grabbing me around the neck while more hands held me down.
My vision started to dim but then the man in charge forcibly removed the hands. “I don’t want the fucker dead.” He stepped back straightening his jacket. “Get him in the truck. Now.”
No way!
In a last ditched effort to get away, I yelled, “Dad! Help me!”
My dad paused.
They all did.
Then my dad took one step toward me…hesitated. A bullet hissed from beside me—a silencer muffled the sound—and I watched as my dad disappeared around the corner seconds before I saw brick from the building fly off.
He did it!
He left me!
“I’m not going with you,” I raged against everything. The fact of what my dad had done, the restraints holding my wrists, the hands gripping me. I struck out, blindly, as I struggled and kicked. My teeth sank into the soft flesh of the hand covering my mouth and I felt a moment of triumph as the man cursed in pain. Seconds later, the triumph was gone as the man’s fist flew into my face. I felt the pain blossom, starting on my nose as my mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood. The pain ricocheted through me as I turned my head to the side and spat out blood. It felt like my jaw was on fire while I breathed through the pain.
I sucked in a breath to fight harder but my body tensed as fingers dug into my cheeks as a hand clamped around my face. The man in charge leaned forward, his eyes burning with anger as he loomed over me. “You’re mine now lad. You’re going to become my fighting machine. No more fucking nursemaids. I’m going to make you a man, and you’re going to make me money to pay off your father’s debt.”
I couldn’t talk with the hand clamped around me, but I memorized the man’s face, and made sure that I would never forget it.
That close to me I noticed the scar to the right side of his face that ran a good few inches. I thought that he was an American at first, but now I wasn’t sure. Something else was in him, and his accent, one I couldn’t place, slipped with his anger.
I hoped that when I woke up in the morning the memory of tonight would still be there. Because one day, when I was a man—stronger—I was going to get even with everyone involved…including my dad, the one person I always thought would be there to love and support me—the one person who was supposed to protect me from evil.
How wrong was I?
Evie ~ 10 years ago
WHILE MY MOM AND dad were partying with friends, and supporters of my father, I was on the sidelines trying to pretend my life didn’t suck. I’d tried to fake a headache so I’d be allowed to stay home but it hadn’t worked. I’d been told to sit and sip water regardless as to how late it had gotten.
I was twelve years old and hated that my father had just been elected as a state senator. My mother told me that I was selfish for thinking about myself all the time; that I should be more supportive.
How could I be more supportive when the new job meant my father would be away from home even more than he already had been? I really didn’t see me wanting my dad at home as being selfish. I loved him, and missed him when he wasn’t home.
But now, he would be gone more and school would be even harder to deal with. The other kids loved to make fun of me because of my family and my father’s ambition.
I wanted to be part of a normal family. I couldn’t even remember the last time we all ate around the table at the same time. I would only have my dad for family vacations now. He’d promised more but I knew that wouldn’t happen. He loved his work, and really I should stop being ungrateful because I had everything I would ever want…apart from the one thing I really wanted...my father home.
My one best friend, Millie, was the only one who truly knew my fears, and she was the only person to know how much I hated my life.
Over the past few months I’d spent so much time at Millie’s house that it felt like my second home. I loved being there. Her father was larger than life and, although he’d scared me at first, I’d finally gotten used to him.
My mother still tried to keep me apart from Millie when she wasn’t lost in a world of her own making, and actually paid more attention as to what I was up to.
Like now.