Roxy (Pandemic Sorrow #3)

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Book: Read Roxy (Pandemic Sorrow #3) for Free Online
Authors: Stevie J. Cole
house.”
    He let go of me and shoved me on the ground, the chilled concrete tearing open the knee of my worn jeans.
    It’s amazing how a human can become conditioned to take something like abuse. Ever since my mother’s death I’d been exposed to it, been a victim of it, and when that’s what you’re used to, sometimes that’s the only way you can feel.
    To me love was pain. I felt like I had no choice. If it wasn’t Luke it would just be another sorry-ass mother fucker.
    I was trash by lineage and no respectable man would have anything to do with me once he found out what I’d come from. I was destined to be a cracked-out whore before my life came to an end. Just like my father had said I would be.
    I’d needed a distraction from the pain, and I’d ended up in the same situation I’d tried to escape my entire life.
    That saying, “You can become whatever you want,” is a crock of shit. It’s a bald-faced fucking lie. Maybe if you’re a normal, middle-class American you can become whatever you want, but how many people who come from utter shit can change their route in life? It’s a vicious rotation, and I had been stuck in the repeat cycle.
    Luke jerked me up by my hair. I grabbed the top of my head to try and lessen the burn caused from my hair ripping out of my scalp, and I fought the tears. I had to be hard. I couldn’t cry because crying wouldn’t save me from this.
    The dealer widened his stance, wiping his hand over his mouth. “Don’t worry, baby girl. I’ll take good care of you. Treat you real nice.” He glanced over at Luke. “Take her inside. If she runs, I’ll kill you both.” His eyes fell on me. “Got that? I’ll kill you. Right after I kill him.”
    I was dragged toward the house. I didn’t fight him. I never fought him. I glanced up at the guy he was handing me over to, at the guy I knew was about to rape me, and I couldn’t stop myself from crying. What was I doing with a guy who beat me, who sold drugs, who was addicted to heroin and cheap alcohol, a guy that would willingly hand me over to be raped by another man just over a hundred bucks?
    Luke wouldn’t fight for me.
    He would fight for a high, but not for me.
    I would rather die than fucking live this life. I was tired of taking it, of accepting that my life had to be worthless. How could I expect anyone to fight for me if I couldn’t even fight for myself? That was one of those moments that changed my life.
    Pulling in several deep breaths, I waited until we reached the steps and then I swung my arms and kicked my legs as hard as I could manage. I bit down on Luke’s arm, hard, until coppery, warm blood oozed into my mouth.
    I screamed to the point I thought I’d ruptured a vocal cord, and somehow I managed to break free, jumping over the railing and sprinting across the lawn, still shouting for help.
    Within moments both men were chasing me. I tried to go faster, but the dealer caught me with a blow to the head. I tripped, stumbling forward and landing face down on the ground.
    The air had been knocked out of me and when I tried to roll over, I couldn’t. I tried again, and this time sharp shreds of pain ripped through me. My breathing was quick and desperate. I was stuck to the ground. As I tried to move again, sharp pains radiated through my abdomen and I felt hot liquid gush beneath me. I laid on the grass, gritting my teeth against the intense pain pulsing through my body. Blood spurted out with each breath, and within seconds the dark liquid that was pooling underneath my stomach had crept through the grass and was collecting beneath my palms.
    I heard footsteps as Luke and the dealer fled, and I lay there pinned to the ground, impaled by a stake used to play horseshoes and bleeding out on a lawn in the middle of Van Nuys.
    I’d been abandoned for the last time in my life.
    The familiar sound of the police helicopters that surveyed the area echoed above, and the hum of the blades faded into the ringing in my

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