Her Dirty SecretChapter 2

My mother was born into wealth. She cut ties with her family to marry my father, a simple fisherman named Rick.

Rick was a monster, but he played the part of a loving husband just long enough for my mother to give birth.

"Useless bitch, couldn't even give me a son! I'll beat you to death!"

He never held back, raining fists and feet on my mother right in front of me.

I never cried. I just watched. As a little girl, I didn't understand that crying was a way to show sadness or pity. I only knew that if Mom was crying, then I couldn't.

Eventually, I learned the patterns of his rage. Whenever Rick went out drinking, I'd slip a sleeping pill into my mother's water. Then I'd go downstairs and wait for him. I would provoke him, and he would unleash all his drunken fury on me.

And my mother would be safe.

My sweet, naive mother. She had been so sheltered growing up. No matter how badly he hurt her, she would just hold me and cry, telling me to believe in love, to believe there was still good in the world.

I would look at her, my heart a piece of ice.

Mom didn't belong here. She was a golden phoenix fallen into a cesspool.

No matter the cost, I had to lift her out.

I woke from a nightmare and used the wall to steady myself as I made my way to the basement. Since the cancer had advanced, every bone in my body ached. They fractured at the slightest impact, and the wounds were slow to heal. Jasmine's beating today had left me with a limp.

The damp, cold air sent sharp pains shooting up my ankle.

Rick was chained to the wall.

He heard me approach and lifted his head. His cloudy, ancient eyes widened in a mix of fear and rage. "You little monster! I raised you for over a decade, and this is how you repay me? Did you forget who took you to the clinic when that john broke your leg?"

I looked at him, my expression blank. "And who sent me to that john in the first place?"

He was momentarily stunned, then let out a cold laugh. "So what if it was me? If you didn't sell yourself, how was I supposed to get money for my gambling?"

The chains rattled as he leaned closer. "You've been turning tricks for years. Did your mother ever come looking for you? What do you think she'd do if she knew her precious daughter started at fourteen? She'd probably puke."

I watched his mouth open and close, feeling nothing. There was a time when his words would have cut me to the bone, left me bleeding with shame and hatred. But I was already dying. What did any of it matter now?

I turned and picked up a pair of pliers from a nearby shelf, testing their weight in my hand.

Rick's smile vanished. "What are you doing?"

I grabbed his jaw, forcing his mouth open. I raised the pliers. "If you can't learn to speak like a human," I said coldly, "then you don't need these teeth."

His eyes bulged in terror as a muffled scream escaped his throat. "Annie!"

An inhuman shriek echoed through the basement.