Unlike mom, I was able to escape him for a time during the school day when I was younger. It was there where I learned that everyone did not live the way we do, where I was able to make friends who introduced me to the world beyond our little town and was my escape into the world-wide-web.Maybe that's when it started when I started pushing back against the unnecessary restraints. When I started wanting more for mom and I. Or was it when I started questioning everything about our lives? Things that I had long just gone along with that no longer made sense.Like the fact that I didn't like Sam or him me and that we were nothing alike in appearance or actions. Or the fact that mom didn't seem to like him even a little bit. There was more fear between those two than love, a fear that had led me to ask questions, which no one ever paid any heed to.I still didn't have any answers since Sam's only way of communicating here of late was with his fists. But I can't forget the look of terror on

I picked up the ledger and started reading where I'd left off, shocked moments later to see my name. I read what he wrote in stunned silence and, not for the first time since coming here, wondered what kind of man my dad had really been. He'd done this for me. A man who couldn't be with his son, who'd missed the best years of my life growing up, had wanted to share something with his blood.Somehow he'd been keeping track of me, enough to know some of what I did but not all, thank fuck. And his answer was to do his part on his end. The sentiment behind his reasoning made me regret not searching him out sooner, but it was too late for regrets. What I can do for him now to make up for the time we both lost is take care of the job he'd left for me to do.So I put thoughts of anger and missed opportunities aside in favor of dealing with the here and now. The old man's thoughts had been all over the place, moving from one thing to another as if he had too many irons in the fire at once.I w

"It' about damn…" I started to bellyache at whoever was unlocking the door, but the words died on my tongue when I saw the two men standing there with Billy between them. "Billy, what…?" I started to ask the other man what he was doing here before he was tossed into the room with me. The door was closed and locked before I could even think of making a move as he scrambled to get up off the floor.What was Billy doing here? Does that mean that they know? Had that little bitch told them? "Sam, you piece of shit, you sold me out to save your own ass.""I don't know what you're talking about; sold you out to who?""The boss' son! If it wasn't you, then who could it be? Who else did you tell, you idiot?"It had to be that little bitch that told. Celine is too afraid of me to ever go against me, so it must be her. Though this last time, Celine had gone too far in trying to find help. Maybe the thought of her own flesh and blood being sold didn't sit too well with her. But after all the years

I stood in the middle of the yard, looking back and forth between the two men. One had disappeared behind the closed door, and the other was heading to the gate to open it up. This has to be a trick. If he planned on selling me, he wouldn't just let me leave like this, surely. Maybe he's calling my bluff?Mom was no help; she still believed that I was wrong. How had we been found out anyway? I'd made sure to look normal as we made our way down the stairs. If anyone had seen us, then I would've said we were heading to the kitchen and once there made a run for it. I'd noticed all the exits when we went down for dinner, so I know there's a back door and a side door as well as the front.No-one stopped us, and once we cleared the door, I breathed a sigh of relief. I found our bags beneath the window I'd thrown them out of and was making our way towards freedom when someone came out of the darkness. His movements were so silent I didn't even hear or see him until he was right up on us.Mom

The stats on this area for human trafficking are abominable and something I hadn't been aware of until now. The shit reads like a seventeenth-century trade log, with numbers of young girls and boys just disappearing off the streets like smoke. Why the fuck it's not being broadcasted on the news every hour on the hour instead of the other brainless drivel they spout is a mystery. I'm beginning to think that dad had barely scratched the surface of what was going on here, but at least he knew enough to call me in when he got in over his head. He, too, didn't seem to know what was going on until he started saving runaways off the streets, which tells me that someone is going to great lengths to keep the enormity of this thing hidden either to avoid panicking the public or for their own personal gains. I'm leaning towards the latter, and since fish always stinks from the head, that's the one I want. That's why I need this to work. Since Calhoun is savvy enough to keep his location hidden,