I’m eighteen today. I should be happy. I should be out partying with my friends, celebrating adulthood.
I’m not.
I’m lost.
Alone.
I feel…nothing. For the first time in my life, I’m finally free, and yet, I can’t break out on my own.
I’ve seen too much. I’ve done more than some of my father’s most trusted allies.
He owns me.
So here I sit in the middle of nowhere. A bottle of vodka in one hand, a picture of my mother in the other. Her long, flaming red hair, same as my own, blowing in the wind as she brought me home from the hospital.
The day her untainted life would end. All because she didn’t want me growing up in this world. She wanted me to be happy and healthy. She wanted me to see the world as my oyster.
I’m healthy.
But I don’t ever remember being happy.
And if the world is my oyster, then I’m trapped in the encasing shell.
I take another sip of vodka; it burns my throat as I watch the swirling water below my feet. This will be my final escape. My path to true freedom.
My father has forced me to learn two things in life: death and destruction. The first can show mercy, the second will cause nothing but pain to unsuspecting souls.
Today, I’m looking for mercy.
I can’t be here anymore. The things I’ve seen and done, the guilt I carry. I’m done. I can’t be the person he’s grooming me into becoming.
I found out last night that he wants me to be the bait in catching more girls. He wants me to lead them to him after gaining their trust. Lying to them.
As if it’s not enough that he stole my soul, he wants me to do the same to other young girls.
I can’t, and I won’t.
So here I sit, staring as the water swirling below me on the cliff’s edge, crashing into jagged rocks as each drop fights for dominance.
I wonder if it’ll hurt?
If when my body lands, I’ll shatter into nothing, or will I feel everything?
I almost hope it is the latter because I’ve been so numb for so long.
I just want it all to end.
All the pain I’ve caused. The pain he’s caused.
Standing, I place the empty vodka bottle on the ground, clutch my mother’s picture to my chest, and close my eyes.
I almost wish it were him instead of me.
Luther
I have no patience for surveillance. When King told me he had a job for me—that Daniel had managed to find out McCray has been hiding more secrets than we thought. A twin brother in Georgia that had already set up shop with the skin trade—I wasn’t expecting this. The man knows I don’t like this type of tedious work. We have underlings for this crap.
And yet… I can’t leave.
I caught a glimpse of fire engine red hair a few hours after I showed up, and I’ve been hooked ever since. I can’t see a body or a face. For all I know, it could be a man’s hair.
Except… I’ve taken notice. The soft glint from the sun has me craning my neck to see more. To find out who “she” is.
When an hour has passed, and a lithe body covered in baggy sweats and a loose hoody sweater, hiding their appearance, leaves in a small sedan, I follow. Not expecting to be at the top of a mountain four hours later watching a girl who couldn’t be a day over twenty downing a bottle of vodka and watching the river below.
As I see her stand up, a bad feeling hits my gut as she drops the now empty bottle. Climbing from my Infinity G35, the sun bouncing off the sleek black door, I quietly make my way to the woman. I can hear her mumbling something the closer I get. When she spreads her arms as if to fly, I know exactly what she is about to do.
I don’t know why, but I can’t let her die.
I can’t let her kill herself.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” I curse, jumping forward to catch her around the waist.
“No!” she screams at me. “Let me go! I can’t be in this life anymore!” Her voice is angry. There is no fear, no sadness, only pure rage at me stopping her.
“Calm your ass down, girl,” I snarl in her ear as I wrestle her away from the cliff’s edge. I catch a whiff of her scent: honeysuckle.
Sweet.
Pure.
Innocent.
Yet, she can’t be.
“What’s your damage?” I whisper into her ear, unable to draw myself away.
Between her heaving and struggling, I can’t understand a word she’s saying. Shaking her shoulders, I spin her to look at me. “What the fuck were you doing? You would have died!” I shout, still shocked that she was going to commit suicide.
I don’t know what it is about her, but I’m entranced.
“That was the point,” she snaps back.
“What the fuck is so wrong in your life that death is the only option?” I hate that I even fucking care.
This woman is no one to me. For all I know, she’s McCray’s lap dog, doing his dirty work.
“You wouldn’t understand.” She tears herself away from me in search of her empty bottle.
Intrigued by the woman, I ask, “What’s your name?”
Her search stops as she looks to me. “What do you care?”
Good question. “Honestly? I shouldn’t. I should have left you to your fate, let your body splatter on those rocks and bleed out, but color me intrigued when a young thing like you tries to end her life.”
Her eyes remain emotionless.
“How old are you?” I ask, thinking, on closer inspection, that she can’t be a day over sixteen. Which means my interest must die a quick death.
“Look, buddy, I don’t know who you are or what you want, but it isn’t me. If my father saw you here right now, you’d be dead, so piss off.”
A threat?
A bark of laughter leaves my mouth as I walk towards her. My hand shoots out to grip her throat before she can move, pushing her body back over the cliff, so she has to hold my arm or risk choking.
“You’ll answer me,” I snarl. My voice is filled with every ounce of menace I had been feeling an hour ago. “Or, I’ll take you back to where you took off from.” Her eyes widen. “I have a feeling that whoever’s thumb you’re under won’t like that you’re trying to off yourself.”
A tear escapes the corner of one eye.
The first drop of emotion I’ve seen from her.
“What will it take for you to let me go?” Her voice is barely a whisper.
“You really want to die?” I’m genuinely perplexed by this. I’ve met plenty of people ready to meet their maker; hell, I’m usually the one to help them along their way. But her, she’s a different breed. “Tell me why, and maybe I’ll toss you over myself.”
Ariel
I wish he would toss me over and be done with it. I’m supposed to be fish food right now. I shouldn’t be feeling the pain running through my veins with every breath.
I shouldn’t be begging to die.
Yet, I am.
This man is so beautiful it hurts my eyes. With his chiseled jaw and firm lips. His caustic gunmetal grey eyes, and dark, nearly black hair. He has me wishing for something…different.
I want to die.
He makes me want him.
“Please, just let me go,” I beg once again.
I can’t exist on this earth any longer with the secrets I carry.
Today was the first time in over a year I’ve been left alone. There’s been a buzzing in the house I’m not privy to. No one has spoken a word. I think they all know that I’m done, though. I want out of this life.
“Tell me!” he commands again, squeezing my throat tight enough I see stars. My breath is cut off, and it’s blissful.
A satisfied sigh escapes me as my chest struggles to pull air in.
It’s happening.
His hold loosens, and I want to cry out.
“Please!” I cry again. “Have mercy!”
“You really want to die?” Why can’t he understand?
“Yes,” I whimper pitifully.
“Tell me why.”
“You’ll let me go if I do?”
“Yes.”
“He makes me sell children. My whole life it’s all I’ve done. I have to watch as the light of hope dies within their eyes, I have to watch as perverted old men paw at them. I watch as death reaches their stare only their bodies still feel every sickening touch, hear every disgusting word. He wants me to groom them now. Lure little children into his demented game, and I can’t. I won’t do it. But, I can’t leave either. He’ll hunt me down, and I’ll have to continue with this life.”
He’s speechless at my words. Though not shocked, and I have to wonder what he knows about my life to understand the severity of what I’ve confessed.
“Why were you following me?” I finally manage to ask as he pulls me back from the cliff.
“It’s not you I’m after,” he responds.
“Who then?” He can’t know about my father, could he?
“Thomas McCray.”
My uncle then.
I hate my family. They’re a bunch of cold-hearted, money-grubbing, ruthless bastards.
My father, Timothy, Uncle Tom’s twin brother, had moved to America before I was born. I was the result of a rape gone wrong. My mother was to be sold, then Timothy became obsessed with her. The day she died was the best day of her life.
At least, I want to believe so.
“You know him.” Our noses touch as he growls the question at me.
“Yes.”
“How? You’re not his daughter or his sister. We have people on them. So, who are you?” He’s furious.
“I’m nobody.”
His hand tightens on my throat again, only this time, I think he wants me to feel pain. He wants to cause me harm.
“Are you his lover?” He’s every bit as disgusted by the thought as I am.
“Hell, no.” I look away as I say, “I’m his niece.”
He releases me so abruptly that I stumble over a rock, falling on my ass. “You’re Timothy’s daughter?”
Shame washes through me as the man’s entire body vibrates with disgust and fury. “Yes.” I wish I were anyone else right now, more so than I ever have before.
“You’re trying to kill yourself to get away from him?”
“Yes.”
I can see he’s struggling to come to terms with what I’ve said. Trying to assess my lies. But there are none. I’ve been forced into the child slavery industry my entire life. I know nothing else.
“What’s your name?”
Clearing my throat, I answer, “Ariel.”
He pauses to look at me, eyes roaming my small frame. From my flaming red hair, down to my small breasts, past my waist, and to my size six feet. I can tell he likes what he sees; the lust is written plainly on his face, but he’s not happy with it.
“Like the mermaid?”
Rolling my eyes, I say, “Yup,” laced with sarcasm.
“I don’t believe you. There’s nothing we’ve found to prove your existence.”
“Okay.” It’s not as though I’m dying to prove I’m the daughter of a pedophile. Despite what he sells, I know my father likes to imbibe in his trade.
“That’s it? You’re not going to defend that you are?” I’ve shocked him again.
“You stopped me from plunging to my death. What do I care if you believe me or not? I die here today, or he tortures and kills me for what I’ve done this morning. Either way, I’m dead.”