His Wife My sins

|Five|

Roaming the frigid dark hallways of this corrupted place only made me uneasy, and with good reason. The last time I was here was a shit show. I did things that almost cost me my life. To be more specific, a younger naiver me, thought it was wise to involve the police in a missing person's case. A missing person, whose body was buried in the back yard. I thought I was doing the right thing by calling the number on the television and making that report; but I soon came to realize the blunder.

My innocent little stunt caused the Manhattan Police department to swarm this place. They weeded out all the nasties and criminals that were being harboured here, and De Mone' was charged as an accomplice and with obstruction of justice.

She got off with a slap on the wrist and made bail the very day after. That was when things took a turn for the worse. A war broke out right after and we were forced to take refuge with an opposing family. Richard, being the businessman he was, somehow talked Mone into a contract that then put an end to the war; and just like that everything was back to normal. I say normal but I knew better than that. The contract only prevented another war by using both heirs as collateral damage.

What I feel now could only be described as fear. Fear for my very existence.
Trailing behind me was Dutch who was limping on his right leg. It was an injury that I didn't recognize. Which could only mean some poor foolish soul made the careless blunder of trying to kill the unkillable. How sad?
We finally reached the sitting room and were immediately greeted by a group of armed lackeys. Children. They didn't look a day over sixteen. The old hag was always evil. Enslaving children to do her dirty work. That frozen woman. Evil as the word itself. What I feel towards that hag is only pure, raw abhorrence. I loathe her, and every fibre of her being. Her and her fucking house.

A sharp breath was squeezed from my lungs as my eyes wandered along the faces of the children. Scars, and bruises where there should be smiles and gleam. It was heartbreaking. Torturing. My mind couldn't help but drift back to the twins. These Children could have been my siblings if my father's late wife had succeeded in her plans. They could have lived the lives of these poor children. Just the idea of this makes my blood boil and stomach turn. All these children were ripped from the embrace of their parents or were sold off and brought here to serve under this cruel woman.
Why does the evil live so long? Why can't she just shrivel up and die like the dog she is? Will these poor kids ever see the light of day, or know what it feels like to have a family? Will they ever be happy?

Without warning, I was pulled from my thoughts by the cold barrel of a m4 carbine poking my cheek. Looking down my eyes were met by a young girl. Her brown eyes were like of a doll, dilated, almost as if she was high. They were badly bloodshot and drooped from exhaustion. On her cheek was a scar and under her eye was a purplish-black bruise. She was small and her hands trembled from the weight of the rifle. Her short blond hair was filthy, covered in oil, dirt, and twigs. The way she stood made it clear she was still in training, inexperienced. She didn't look a day over thirteen, no older than April. The poor thing. She didn't deserve this life.
"State your business stranger", her soft voice shook as the air was pushed from her lungs.
"I'm here to see De mone' ", I replied with a warm smile. "That's Lady De mone' to you." A boy stated from the corner of the room. " Or mama", the little girl echoed, trying her hardest to breathe. If only I could correct them and tell them how wrong, they were. Shine some light.
Mone' was not a mother, nor was she motherly, and she was not a fucking lady either. De mone' was an evil bitch with a heart of stone and poison in her veins. She killed thousands in Iraq back in the war, kidnapped and sold women across the world, burned families, burned children. This creature is the embodiment of pure, untouched evil.

Walking over to me the boy eyed me with every step. Scanning me from the head down, looking for anything that was out of place or suspicious. "Raise your arms." He instructed as he began his pat-down. This boy didn't look a day over fifteen, a child. She has to be stopped. This has to stop. And I aim to stop it.
It only needs time.
"You can go." A quick glance at the rifle on his back and I was quickly reminded of why I was here. I can't save everyone, for right now what I need is dirt and I aim to get it.