Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 78631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
I open my mouth, but no words come out. I simply grab my glass of red wine, clink it to my father’s, and we drink in silence as I allow the story he just told me to settle into my brain.
Present day…
I replay the conversation I had with my father that night five years ago as if it happened yesterday.
I understand so much better now why he was so troubled all those years ago. It wasn’t just what he had seen during his time overseas with the military, and it wasn’t just his budding feelings for Mom. It was his past. How he’d been abducted, abused, violated as a child by those three horrible men.
No wonder he was so screwed up.
But that place, and that old man, had such an impact on him that he wanted to share it with all of his children. Teach them the wisdom of never giving up.
And I’m not going to give up.
I’m not going to give up on Dragon. I’m not giving up on talking to his mother. I’m getting his whole story.
If my father can get through his tragic past, Dragon can as well. But I can’t help him if I don’t know.
I knock again.
And again.
Finally I pound on the door.
“Mrs. Locke!” I yell. “Open the damned door!”
I sigh, finally relenting. I turn—
“Jesus Christ,” a voice says. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, waking me up at this hour?”
Chapter Seventeen
Dragon
Seventeen years earlier…
I follow Mike and Zach to the front where a line is already formed.
A couple of older boys shove Mike out of the way. “Go to the back.”
Leon clears his throat.
“Sorry, Leon,” one of the boys says.
“Fuck,” Zach says. “We’ll pay for that later.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“You’ll find out soon enough,” Mike says. “Just close your eyes. And remember, one day you will be the big one.”
I gaze at Mike and try to uncover the meaning of his words. His expression is unreadable. After a moment, he turns away and leads me toward the back of the line.
On the way, Zach mutters, “Just remember. Never show fear.”
As we wait our turn, I watch the others in the line. Most of them avoid looking at me. The few who do don’t seem happy to see a new guy.
When it’s finally our turn, a lady wearing a hairnet scoops gummy-looking pasta onto our plates and covers it with red sauce and two meatballs.
Two meatballs?
That’s not enough to keep me going, but I’m used to going to bed with my stomach growling.
As we grab our spoons and forks, Zach nudges me and nods toward the table at the far end of the hall. “That’s where you want to end up,” he says.
I look to where he’s pointing and see a group of older guys. They’re laughing and joking around, completely oblivious to everyone else. Despite their worn-out clothing, they carry an air of importance around them that’s hard to miss. It’s like they own the place, while the rest of us are intruders.
“Who are they?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
“The table of kings,” Mike replies, looking at them with a mix of envy and respect. “They’ve been here the longest, know all the rules. They think they run the place.”
Zach glances over his shoulder at them before leaning closer to me. “They pick on newcomers, but if you prove yourself, you can earn your spot at their table. And once you’re there…”
“Once you’re there,” Mike finishes for him, “you get respect. You stop being prey.”
I shake my head. This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. No one is better than anyone else. Who do these jokers think they are?
As we find an empty table, I take one last glance at the kings, etching their faces into my memory. One of them narrows his eyes at me.
Great. Just what I don’t need. The unwanted attention of a bully. He’s probably excited about tormenting the “new meat.”
Over dinner, Mike and Zach fill me in on the unspoken rules of the home. Never be caught alone after lights-out, never take more than your share at mealtime, and above all, never ever squeal on another resident to the staff.
“There’s something else,” Zach adds as he scrapes his fork against his plate, collecting the last bits of his spaghetti. “Never forget why you’re here.”
“What do you mean?” I know why I’m here. My parents gave me away because they thought I hurt my sister. They were wrong, and I’ll hate them until the day I die.
Mike answers this time. “We’re here because no one else wanted us. But that doesn’t mean we ain’t worth anything.”
His words hang in the air, and I’m not sure of their meaning. I already know I’m a piece of shit. My parents thought so, and they should know, right? That doesn’t mean I’ll let myself be bullied. I didn’t at the last place, and I sure won’t here, either.