I spent the next few hours hashing out a strategy with Mario until it was well after dark. John never bothered to call after I had left the hospital, so I knew he was still at hospital letting his guilt turn him into a wannabe decent father. Imagine that.
After reaching Six Forks, I drove down endless streets to avoid going home or the one place that would land me back in jail. I wrestled with all the different hands I was playing—Mario, Lake, Keenan, John, Mitch, and Arthur.
I took a risk when I called my former owner because he now knew where I lived and where my family lived. He could have me killed at any time, and it was likely I would never see it coming. I did have a small advantage. It was why my heart was still beating. He wasn’t as untouchable and well hidden as he thought he was—not to someone who had been there. I may have been young, but I wasn’t blind, and the conditions I grew up in made me comprehend faster than any kid my age should have.
Over the years, his illegal slave ring had become too big and ultimately, so had his visibility. There were many moles on his payroll who were willing to talk for extra cash. But while his operation was a little less of a secret, it didn’t make him any easier to catch. Like me, kids had managed to escape here and there, but Arthur kept his own hands clean. Legally, his wife runs a home for runaway or homeless children. To keep up pretenses, they often toss some of them back into the streets or turn them into authorities, but the kids they keep are never seen again.
They never took kids over twelve. The younger they are, the easier they are to lure and control. The infants they acquire are always sold by their parents, just as I was, but are in less demand.
The thought of being sold made me relive almost every hell I had gone through in order to survive.
“Is that what you want to hear? That I am afraid of you? That I am still afraid of you? Yes, I am afraid, but it’s all I will ever feel for you. It is the need to survive. You can’t control me beyond that…”
Monroe’s word rang loud in my ears and I felt as my hand gripped the steering wheel tighter and anger rolled over me in hard, unyielding waves. For ten years, she let her fear override her better judgment and called it surviving. She was weak… and maybe just a little bit of a masochist. So what did that make me?
She could have stopped me a long time ago, but instead, she chose to give in. She wanted to preserve her precious innocence. I know she thought I was talking about sex. That was just the bonus.
What I wanted to steal from her ran far below the surface. I wanted to see her selfish side. I wanted to see her save herself. I wanted to corrupt her. Why? Because I fucking hate heroes.
The rest of the world would have fought back and damned their family, friends, and whoever else I could use against them. They would have done it out of pride because their ego wouldn’t allow them to admit defeat.
The truth was, not many people had the strength to do what she did. Chances were, I would have killed her aunt and broke her little friend. She was smart enough to see that. Over the years, I would push and take just to see how far I could go before she would bend. I wanted to knock her off her pedestal and dirty her up, but she fought me. All this time she thought she was losing because she didn’t see what the real fight was. In the end, she didn’t break, and I became less concerned with her morals and more interested in owning her.
When I was finally prepared to let her go, she fucked herself and me by turning me in. Her defiance was unprecedented. While I wanted to corrupt her, I still demanded the control. She needed to realize she would always be mine.
By the time I stopped the car, I was in dark place, and in an even blacker mood. I realized I wasn’t home but it was too late. I needed to satisfy an urge and I wasn’t about to deny myself.
Chapter Seven
Lake