Vincent (Made Men Book 2)(43)

“I have plans for you this weekend; big piles of shit only trailer trash scum can clean up. I own you, and you will find out how much I fucking own you in a few days. I’m going to make up for all the time I’ll lose when you go to college. The only thing which is going to help you get through it is the thought of what your piece of shit father would do to your mother if he found out how you were treated. What do you think those animals who think their shit don’t stink would do to her? I know you’re a retarded inbred, but I’m sure you understand me, don’t you?” He slowed the last part down as if he was talking to a baby.

Lake was reminded of why she had to put up with John torturing her and why she had to keep it a secret all these years. John was right; if she told her father or Adalyn, the mafia would come for her mother and kill her. There was no doubt about it. Her mom was her family, her flesh and blood, and she would do what she needed to do to keep her family safe.

She looked down at the ground in defeat. “Yes, John.” Lake had tried often to get out of those ‘Nightmare on Fourth Street’ weekends, but all her excuses would be shot to Hell whenever her mother called her father to complain. That always raised questions on why she didn’t want to go, questions she could never answer.

He stared at her a moment longer to instill the fear of what was to come before stepping to the side.

Once he moved, it didn’t take Lake two seconds to run as fast as she could down the steps and out the door. Fumbling with the car door handle, she finally managed to get in and lock the doors behind her.

Putting her face in her hands, she began to sob, asking God, Why me? Why me…?



“Why, God?” Lake quietly cried to herself as she scrubbed the toilet.

Hearing the door to the bathroom open behind her, she snapped her head back to see John.

“Because you’re fucking nothing; that’s why. Now quit fucking crying. God isn’t going to help you.”

She covered her mouth, trying to stifle the cry about to come out from his hurtful words.

John went over to the bathroom counter and slammed his hands down as hard as he could, scaring Lake so badly she went dead-silent. “Get the fuck upstairs. This is exactly why I made you move into the attic. I’m sick of hearing and looking at nothing but a piece of shit. Go!” he yelled at her.

Getting up and running as fast as she could, she went down the hall, stopping only when she noticed Ashley on a stepladder from the garage. Slowly walking down, she watched Ashley use scissors to cut at the white string which was used to pull the attic stairs down to her new bedroom.

Ashley finally took notice of her and held out the string, showing her how much she had cut off. “I thought it was a bit too long. What do you think now?”

Lake wiped away at the tears which were sliding down her cheek without giving her an answer.

“You’re right, bitch. It needs just a little more taken off. You’re fucking nice and tall; you can do it.” Ashley sounded crazed when she said ‘nice and tall’ as she cut off another inch. “Perfect.”

She watched Ashley climb back down the ladder and move it out of the way.

“Go on, I want to see how high you can jump.” An evil sneer appeared on her face.

Lake merely stood there. She wasn’t going to let Ashley watch.

“Do you want me to call for my fucking dad? I’m sure he would love to watch this, too.” When Lake didn’t move again, she started to scream, “Da—”

Lake quickly moved toward the string, not wanting John to watch her, as well.

More tears flowed from her as she jumped to retrieve the string. She failed the first several times, making it even harder on her to grasp it after it started swinging back and forth at each failed attempt.

Ashley’s sadistic laugh rang in her ears along with the words, “Higher. Jump higher, bitch…”



Lake wiped her tear-stained face using the backs of her hands, coming to the realization that reminiscing about her past tortures wasn’t going to help her stop crying, and crying wasn’t going to solve any of her problems.

She had to work that night and pull herself together if she was going to solve her biggest problem.

For an eighteen-year-old girl, it was sad to think that the only way she could save her and her father’s lives was to work in a sexed-up casino. Sometimes, life just wasn’t fair.





Chapter Twenty-Five

Was It A Mother or Daughter This Time? Or Fuck, Was It Both?



The second day of work wasn’t any easier than the first. Her feet were still sore from the day before, and coming out from behind the curtain dressed like a playboy bunny still scared the shit out of her. It took her until halfway through her shift before she became used to the whole thing again.