Thirty years earlier

A dark, creepy feeling, like I’d walked over someone’s grave, slithered down my spine as the girl climbed the broken front steps of the porch with the social worker. The thin blonde clutched a black trash bag to her chest as they came through the ripped screen door. I didn’t have to be a genius to guess that everything she owned was inside.

Me and my trash bag had moved fourteen times in the last nine years. I couldn’t remember how many times I was passed around before that. My first memory was my stomach gnawing on itself, so I’d begged for more dinner and my foster dad had backhanded me across the face. I was four, or so they told me. It was hard to keep track when you never saw candles on a birthday cake because you ain’t never had one.

I’d bet if Mrs. Holiday was still alive, I would’ve got one, maybe even every year, but she got real sick and they moved me to a new house after six months when it was clear she wasn’t gonna make it long and couldn’t take care of us. First time I’d ever felt like someone wanted me. First time someone let me pick out my own clothes at a store. First time someone asked what I wanted for dinner. First time I ever felt like I had a real mom. All that did was make it harder when she was gone. It taught me to never get attached to anything or anyone in this life because there was nothing good down that road.

Every house before and after hers were different versions of the same old shit. You weren’t one of their real kids; you were the paycheck they didn’t do nothing to earn. Barely fed you. Lucky if you got a toothbrush from some of them. And clothes? Whatever the church donated or maybe what the real kids grew out of. Nothing new, that was for damn sure.

The undershirt I was wearing right now was more stained than white, and when I caught it on a chain-link fence earlier this week and ripped a hole in it, Jerry shoved me up against the side of the house and whipped off his belt to teach me a lesson, something he liked to do a few times a week, especially after he’d finished a six-pack and had a few smokes.

Mean drunks weren’t nothing new either. I could spot them at a hundred yards now.

If Jerry didn’t have a foot and a hundred fifty pounds on me, I would’ve hit him back the first time he pulled that belt free. Well, that, and knowing that if I got kicked out of this house, there was no one to protect Destiny. She was only six, but I saw the way Jerry looked at her. It wasn’t right, so I did my best to stick as close to her as I could.

More times than not, I sneaked out of my room at night and slept in front of her door, just to make sure he didn’t try nothing. I didn’t trust that piece of shit as far as I could throw him, and with that fat fuck, it wasn’t far.

“We’re so excited to be able to place Destiny and her sister together, finally. Everyone, say hi to Hope,” the social worker said, as much hope in her voice as the girl’s name. She didn’t get that there was no hope in this house, even with her here.

No hope in the whole fucked-up system.

Destiny’s short, skinny legs flew across the room as she threw herself at the girl’s waist while Jerry and his wife, Dixie, and their son, Jerry Jr., watched from a few feet away. He didn’t get real close anymore. Probably because Jerry and Dixie only let me shower once a week. Saving on the water bill, or so they said.

When the new girl dropped the trash bag to hug her little sister, Jerry ran his tongue over his teeth, eyeing her like she was one of those thick steaks he brought home from the butcher to cook only for himself.

Lead settled in my gut when I realized she was older than I thought, despite being so small. Probably older than me. She already had tits, and definitely wasn’t wearing a bra.

Jerry couldn’t take his eyes off those tits of hers, and he wasn’t even trying to hide it.

If the way he looked at Destiny wasn’t right, the way he looked at Hope was downright fucked up. I’d found his porno mags stuffed into a box in the lean-to where he thought no one would see them. He liked them young and blond, and I wanted to yell at the social worker to take both girls and get them as far away from this house as possible.

But I knew what’d happen if I shot my mouth off. I’d be the one who got booted, and there wouldn’t be no one to protect either of them from Jerry.

“Missed you so much,” Hope whispered to Destiny as she dropped to her knees on the dirty linoleum floor. They hugged long and hard before Hope looked up to take in the rest of us.

Jerry stepped forward first, of course. His gut strained against his white tank top as he held out his arms. “I’m your new daddy, Hope. Welcome home.”

Hope’s eyes widened, and she looked behind him until she caught sight of me. Like recognized like. She knew I wasn’t one of the real kids. I shook my head just an inch to give her the warning.

I had to give the girl credit—she was quick on picking up signals, which blew, because that meant she’d been through shit that would make me go ballistic.

She kept Destiny hugged to her side and did one of those side-pat things with Jerry, but that bastard was persistent. He squeezed both girls in a hug.

“Feels like our little family’s complete now.”

Dixie gave her a nod. She didn’t say much, probably because she spent as much of the day as possible drinking from a Sprite two-liter bottle. Except there were no bubbles in it, and when she passed out on the couch for the first time after I moved in, I’d twisted the lid off to take a swig.

Vodka.

Should I know that shit at thirteen? Probably not, but I didn’t have the luxury of a childhood. Plus, she was always busy covering up the bruises Jerry left on her the mornings after those nights he turned the record player up real loud in their room.

Maybe it was wrong, but since I was already pretty sure I was going to hell since my last foster mom’s favorite nickname for me was “spawn of Satan,” I was glad of those nights. It meant there was less chance he’d make a move on Destiny.

But Hope? Fuck, Hope meant trouble.

Jerry released them both after the awkwardly long embrace. The social worker was still beaming about her accomplishment of reuniting siblings.

“Well, I’ll leave y’all to get better acquainted.” She looked at Dixie. “You know the drill. Nothing new.”

Jerry laughed, and the bottom of his shirt lifted so his gut hung over his pants. “Nothing but a bump back up in that check we get every month, you mean.”

The social worker’s smile dimmed a few watts, but she nodded. “Of course.” She looked down at the two girls, but focused mostly on the new girl. “You have my number if you need to talk about anything for any reason. I hope you enjoy your new home, and I’m so glad you and Destiny are finally together again.”

“She’s gonna love it,” Jerry said.

As soon as the social worker drove away, Jerry wrapped his sausage-like fingers around Hope’s forearm. “I’ll show ya your new room. You’ll be right next to me and Dixie.”

“I can share with Destiny,” Hope said. “It’s no bother. I don’t need my own room.”

Jerry ran his tongue over his teeth again. “You’re too old to be sharing a room. We got plenty. Come on and don’t argue.”

That slimy, creepy feeling grew as Jerry dragged her up the stairs, probably headed to the room vacated by another foster kid before Destiny and I showed up within a few days of each other.

From what Jerry Jr. said, that one was a girl too. He was only seven, so he couldn’t tell me why she moved on, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

Hope’s blue eyes, the exact match of Destiny’s, locked on me as the trash bag slapped against every step. I saw the fear. She knew she’d just walked into a keg of gunpowder, just waiting for a spark to explode in her face.

I didn’t break her stare until they turned the corner at the top of the steps, but I vowed in that moment that if that fat fuck touched her . . . all bets were off.

* * *

Hope slept in Destiny’s room instead of her own for the first week because Destiny cried whenever Hope left her sight.

Jerry’d had enough of it now. He was drunk and pissed tonight as he slammed his fist on the counter hard enough to make the cheap dishes rattle.

“You stop being a little crybaby. Hope ain’t goin’ nowhere, and she’s sleepin’ in her own damn room tonight whether you like it or not.”

I’d barely slept all week because I didn’t trust him. I was starting to feel drunk from the lack of it, and my schoolwork, which I didn’t bother much with anyway, was worse than ever. I’d spent more time in the principal’s office than in class since I started at this school. But they expected that from me, from all of us kids in the system. It was like they knew we were set up to fail from day one, so why even try.

All we were was crap.

For me, it was the truth. At least the way I was told, my ma had left me on the stairs of a church in the Quarter and a nun found me, covered in my own shit.

It was a pretty fitting start to how my life had gone. The stain of what I was, who I was, followed me everywhere I went.

Sometimes I wondered if my mama had bothered to name me herself before she left me, but it didn’t matter. The only name I’d had was the one the nun gave me—Michael. Just as generic as the rest of the bible names they give the thrown-away kids.

“No! Want my sissy!” Destiny cried.

Jerry grabbed her by her thin arm and hauled her closer while reaching for his belt buckle with the other hand. “You want to cry? I’ll give you something to cry about.”

Hope dropped to her knees in front of her sister, putting her at eye level with Jerry’s crotch. “It’s okay, Desi. I’ll just be a couple rooms away. I’ll still be here in the morning when you wake up. I’m not letting them split us up again. I promise.”

That promise told me Hope hadn’t been in the system as long as I’d thought. If she had, she’d know better than to make any promises. They were all bound to get broken.

Jerry kept his hold on Destiny and his belt buckle, but his attention shifted to Hope. Or rather, down Hope’s shirt.

Someone needed to buy the girl a bra, but I guaranteed she wouldn’t be getting one from Jerry.

“See, your sister knows how to behave like a good girl.” He ran his tongue across his teeth inside his mouth. “Real good.”

I knew I wouldn’t be sleeping again tonight.

* * *

Jerry waited until Destiny was asleep and Dixie had passed out in the living room before he made his move. My eyelids were dragged down by what felt like a ton of bricks, but as soon as the old wooden floors creaked, I knew he was on the move.

My blood pumped harder, faster, as I slid out of my doorway and skipped the creaking boards I’d memorized within days of my arrival. Moving silently had its advantages.

The hinges on the door, long since needing oil, squeaked as he pushed it open.

He went toward Hope’s bed, and from my position behind him, I saw her bolt up and clutch the covers to her chest like she’d held that trash bag.

Jerry lunged for her, slapping a hand over her mouth. “Don’t you fucking scream, or I’ll make paying your dues even more taxing, girl.”

Hope fought against him, but he shredded her threadbare shirt down the front and her tiny tits fell free. He reached for one and squeezed. His other hand disappeared.

“Get ready to pay your rent, girl. Your sister’s too. Unless you want me to take from her. Bet she cries just as pretty as you.”

Rage boiled in my empty belly, and I had to force back the urge to puke at his words. He didn’t deserve to live.

With the Louisville slugger he’d bought Jerry Jr. for Little League over my shoulder, I flexed my hands, adjusting my grip. I’d take an evil life to save an innocent soul any day of the week.

Jerry ripped back the covers all the way as I stepped through the doorway.

“Don’t you fucking touch her.”

Jerry whipped around to look at me, and Hope’s whimpers of fear filled my ears.

His gaze landed on the bat over my shoulder. “The fuck you think you’re gonna do with that, boy? Want me to shove it up your ass since you think you’re king shit?”

He moved faster than I would’ve thought possible, lurching his bulk off the bed and charging me like a bull, his dick swinging out of his dirty pants like a limp hot dog.

That motherfucker.

I didn’t think. I swung.

But Jerry ducked, and the bat slammed against the side of his neck. He stumbled backward until he crashed into the wall, his hands going to his throat. He slid to the floor as Hope silently cried in her bed, shaking with fear as she grasped the sheet to cover herself.

Jerry struggled to breathe as I stepped toward him, my disgust growing as I thought about what he would’ve done to her if I hadn’t been here. If he hadn’t dodged, I might have crushed his head like a melon with that first swing, but I was glad that didn’t happen. He didn’t deserve to go that easy or quickly.

A grown man trying to rape a fourteen-year-old girl deserved to die slowly, in as much pain as possible.

I pressed the end of the bat to his hands where they covered whatever I’d hurt in him with my off swing, forcing him to cut off his own air supply as I increased the pressure a little at a time.

“You’re never gonna touch another girl in this fucking house.”

Jerry’s eyes bulged out of his head a little more with every passing second. Finally, for the first time since I stepped foot in this hellhole, I saw fear in them.

It fed into my racing blood, and I didn’t hesitate to increase the pressure as he tried to pull his hands free, but couldn’t.

He was gonna lose consciousness soon, and I wanted that fear and pain clawing through him before he went. If my suspicions were right, it was no more than what he’d caused plenty of other helpless kids.

“Never again, Jerry. You hear me?”

With as much force as I could, I jammed the bat against his hands, and there was a sharp crunch before I watched the life drain from his eyes.

I gave it another good, hard shove, just to make sure he was really dead. When he slumped to the side, Hope’s cries grew louder. I leaned down to check Jerry’s pulse.

Nothing. Not a single beat left of his black heart.

I just did the world a favor.

When I stood and met her eyes, the bat dangling from my fingertips, the fear was still there. Except this time, I didn’t know who she was more afraid of, but I could probably get it in one guess.

Or maybe I was wrong.

Hope bolted from the bed, the sheet wrapped around her, and slammed into my side. Her arms wrapped around my waist. “Thank you.”

I could barely make out the words through her sobs as her tears soaked into my dirty shirt.

“I only did what needed to be done. Now, get dressed and get your shit. I’ll get Destiny. You’re both getting the fuck out of this house. I’ll take you as far as the church shelter a few blocks over. Have them call your social worker. Tell that lady what Jerry tried to do.”

She jerked her head around to look at his body. “What do I tell her about . . . this?”

“The truth.”

Hope’s teary blue gaze lifted to mine, fear in it once more. “But they’ll come after you—”

“They’ll never find me.”

Hope bit her lip and released her grip on me.

“Hurry up. We gotta move.”

As soon as I walked out of that house for the last time, both girls huddled behind me, I realized my last foster mom was wrong when she called me the spawn of Satan.

I was the devil himself.