Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 74655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
I flinch at the thought of losing my life. Of him winning. Of him having what he’s always wanted. The last woman in his life dead. The very thought makes me angry and frustrated, but mostly scared as hell. My father is the deadliest kind. Dangerous. Reckless. Cold blooded. He will stop at nothing, I know this as much as Koda does, but he simply doesn’t know yet the monster he’s facing up to.
Nobody does.
They have no idea.
None, whatsoever.
~*~*~*~
THEN – CHARLIE
“Nobody will know you’re mine.”
My father’s rough fingers scrape through my scalp, burning my head as he puts something that smells really bad in my hair. His fingers come back black as he grabs the messy bottle and squirts more on, scrubbing it into my hair and making my eyes water. I don’t know what he’s putting onto me. I don’t care. I just want my mommy back. But she isn’t coming back.
I know that now.
I belong to my dad.
“You’re going to work for me. Find out what I need. It’s perfect. This worked out perfectly. Your mother dying was a blessing. I’ll be the fucking best.”
A blessing.
My heart hurts, but I don’t cry anymore.
Dad told me the more I cry, the more he’ll make me wish I didn’t.
So, I stopped crying.
Except for when I go to bed at night and I know he can’t hear me. Then I cry. I cry really hard. I miss my mommy. I want her to come back. Knowing she isn’t going to makes everything really empty. Our maid, Rebecca, comes into my room sometimes and pats my hair. She’s not really supposed to, but I think she feels sorry for me. If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t eat or get to school.
Dad doesn’t care about me.
He told me so yesterday.
His fingers wrap around my upper arm after a few minutes with this yucky stuff in my hair, and he drags me into the washing room and pushes my head over the sink. It hurts, a lot, but I don’t complain. He’ll only make it hurt worse. I don’t know why dad doesn’t love me. All my friends at school, their dads love them. They come and pick them up and swing them around in their arms.
My dad has never hugged me.
Or kissed me.
Or told me he loves me.
But I don’t love him, either, so maybe it’s fair.
Black liquid fills the sink, and I stare at it, washing down the drain until it becomes clear. I see strands of my hair, and it’s not red anymore. It’s black. Dad changed my hair color. I’m not sure why. He keeps telling me I’ve got a job to do, and I need to learn and pay attention. And mostly, I can never tell anybody he’s my father. If I do, he’ll send me to be with Mommy.
The same way.
Sometimes I think that wouldn’t be so bad, going to be with Mommy. Even if it did mean some cruel man had to shoot me. At least I wouldn’t be here with Dad.
Maybe.
Dad’s harsh fingers pull me into an upright position and he takes a towel, rubbing my head until it hurts. I bite my lip to stop from making any sound. He doesn’t like it when I complain. He scrubs my head dry and then tosses the towel. “Brush it. Then come into my office. We’re going to go over everything you’ve learned.”
He storms out, and I take the brush, panicking. What if I forget something he’s taught me? There is so much to remember. So many papers and words I have to look for, things I have to find. I don’t think I’m old enough for what he wants me to do. I don’t think I’ll be able to get it right, and if I don’t, he’ll hurt me.
I’m tired of being hurt.
I brush my hair quickly and rush to his office, knocking on the door. He yells something, and I walk in, timidly standing and watching him. He calls me over, and I go, right away. I stop in front of him and he crosses his arms. Mommy told me once that she fell in love with Dad because he was so handsome. I don’t really understand what that means, I just know to me Dad is only scary. And mean.
Really mean.
“What are you going to do? From the top?”
I swallow, and my fingers tremble. “Ummm ...”
He steps forward, his fingers grabbing me by the shoulder. He squeezes really hard, so hard tears burn in my eyes, but I don’t cry. “I swear to God, Charlene. I will make you remember, no matter how hard I have to hurt you to get there. Now, what the fuck did I teach you?”
“I’ll go to the houses you tell me to go to,” I whisper, my voice shaky. “I’ll knock on the door and tell the people I’m lost and I don’t know where I am. When they let me inside, I’ll ask to use the bathroom. Then, I’ll run off and find any information I can.”