Total pages in book: 11
Estimated words: 10371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 52(@200wpm)___ 41(@250wpm)___ 35(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 10371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 52(@200wpm)___ 41(@250wpm)___ 35(@300wpm)
I’ve never felt so balanced in my life. Working for Julian gives me a purpose, and being able to physically hurt people—to have them fear me—makes me feel powerful and in control, something I’ve never had before.
When I’m not working, I’m home. Usually, I hang out on the back porch, sipping a beer, and enjoying the fresh air.
Claire comes out and sits with me whenever her dad isn’t home. At first, I thought he didn’t like her being outside because he was worried about her, but the more I learn about him, the more I wonder if he’s just a prick who likes to control his daughter.
My gut churns. I know plenty about adults who treat their kids like shit, and I really hope I’m wrong about Claire’s father. Shit, I don’t even know his name. I need to find out more about him and make sure Claire is safe with him.
I could always ask Julian for help. Have him do a background check on the guy, or I could talk to Claire’s dad myself.
The girl has really grown on me, and I feel protective of her. Slowly, she’s become like the little sister I never had. Talking to her gives me a sense of normalcy in between all the chaos.
As if she can hear me thinking about her, she appears in front of me.
“Hi.” She beams, pressing up onto her tiptoes.
“Hey, butterfly, how was school?”
“Boring.” She frowns, holding her notebook tightly to her chest. I paid three dollars for it at the Dollar Store, but she treats it like it’s worth a million bucks.
“Yeah, school sucks, but keeping up your grades will help you get a good job later.”
She blinks slowly. “Did you have good grades in school?”
Fuck, no. I didn’t even graduate.
“They could have been better.”
“But you got a good job. I mean, you drive a nice car now, and you always buy me stuff.”
I withhold a laugh. She has no idea about the things I have to do, the blood spilled, or the broken bones. It’s not my job that is good, it’s me that’s good at my job, and there is a difference.
“My work is hard, and I would never want you to do what I do. Speaking of buying you stuff. I got you that chocolate bar you like.”
I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out the candy bar I grabbed at the gas station. I try to bring her stuff I know she likes because I know what it feels like to have nothing. I know how something as simple as a chocolate bar can brighten your entire day.
Her emerald green eyes light up, and she reaches for it eagerly. As she grabs it from my hand, her sleeve rides up above her wrist. My blood runs cold as I take in the black and blue marks along her pale skin.
“What the fuck?” I reach to grab her arm but stop myself, not wanting to hurt her more. Claire pulls her hand away as if I just burned her. The candy bar falls to the floor, but neither one of us reaches to pick it up.
“I-It’s nothing. I fell,” she stutters and stumbles back.
“Claire, don’t lie to me. What happened?” I take a step toward her, but she only retreats more. For the first time since we met, she is looking at me with fear flickering in her eyes, and that look feels like a sucker punch to the chest.
“Nothing happened! I just fell. It was my own fault,” she tells me, but her voice breaks at the end. She spins around and heads for her house.
“Claire…” I call after her, but she is already running through her back door, slamming it shut behind her.
I start walking after her, determined to figure out what happened when my phone buzzes in my pocket. Cruising under my breath, I take it out and look at the screen.
Markus: Meet me in ten minutes, corner of 10th and Williams St.
Shit.
I have to go, but I’m not going to let this go. I’m going to figure out who put their hands on Claire, and I will make them pay.
4
Claire
I stare down at the sidewalk as I trudge down the street and toward our neighborhood. The hole at the top of my shoe has gotten bigger, and I can now see my big toe poking out the top with each step I take.
Maybe I can convince Dad to go to Goodwill and get me a new pair of shoes? That is if he didn’t already spend his entire check. I try not to frown, even though I want to. I want new shoes and better clothes, but Dad is always telling me we can’t afford them. Sometimes, I wonder if what he really means is that he doesn’t want to buy it for me.