Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 126564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
“The first time I felt anything resembling sexual attraction to anyone was that night, when I caught you in that dirty L.A. alley…” I waved my purse in the air, chuckling. “Well, anyway, that was a mistake. It’s fine, though. I never needed a relationship to be satisfied sexually. I can take care of myself.”
He opened his mouth, about to say something, but I couldn’t bear to listen to what it might be.
“Hey, do you think it’s safe to leave?” I looked around us. “The smell is starting to get to me.”
“Hallie…” Ransom trailed off, looking miserable and disgusted with what I’d just told him. Maybe a little bit with himself, too, for his treatment of me. I couldn’t stand it. The pity.
“Please don’t be a sap.” I rolled my eyes. “Can we get out of here, or what?”
He nodded once, waltzing over to open the door for me.
Then.
Lawrence was the first to go solo.
When he turned eighteen, he got a full ride to college. We all thought Moruzzi was gonna change his tune. Sweeten up the deal for him to make him stick around in Chicago and do his biddings.
Not so. Moruzzi had decided, instead, to steal all of Lawrence’s savings and told him if he moved, his life would be over.
Lawrence moved, anyway. Tom and I chipped in to help him. Together, we both had about two grand, which wasn’t going to get Lawrence far, but it would buy him some time to find a job before he started his school year.
The night Lawrence left, Moruzzi drank. A lot. Mrs. Moruzzi wasn’t home. She’d gone to Toronto, to spend some time with her lover. I wondered why people stayed together. Marriage looked like a terrible cage to be trapped in. I vowed to never marry.
Moruzzi decided Tom and I should fight. We had no choice, so we did. Normally, I came out on top. But this time, I saw how down and depressed Tom was about the whole thing, so I let him win.
Later that night, Tom crawled over to my bedroom to stitch me up and share a bottle of whiskey he’d stolen from Moruzzi. We did it a lot—drank his booze. Moruzzi never paid attention. He was too much of a drunkard to keep track of his liquor stash.
“We need to kill him,” Tom said, after a long silence. “Or he’ll kill us. I know he will. When I went to get this whiskey from his office, I saw his desk. He is trying to figure out where Law lives. I think Law’s in danger.”
If Tom and I killed him, we wouldn’t have anywhere to go. Plus, we’d be the immediate suspects, after the police looked into it and found out what we did for him.
“We’ll need to get creative first.” I shook my head. “Buy time before we both turn eighteen.”
For the next two years, we slowed Mr. Moruzzi down. Made him as useless, toothless, and clawless as one could be. We slipped some of the drugs he let us sell into his drinks and food when he wasn’t looking, getting him unknowingly hooked. When he wanted to take a spontaneous trip to the state where Lawrence attended college, we very mistakenly loosened one of the stairs in the house, which resulted in Mr. Moruzzi breaking his leg and canceling the trip. We began messing with his sanity. Tampering with his electricity. Changing light bulbs to create different hues, different atmospheres. Cut his shoelaces shorter. Made his important documents and work things go MIA.
He became more vicious toward us. The women he’d once brought over to reward us for our good behavior were long gone. He hid food. Locked us out when we came home late. We counted down the minutes, then seconds, until it was all over.
Tom got out first. He found a good college, got a scholarship, and bailed. He asked me to come with him. Said he’d take care of me the last year before I turned eighteen. But I didn’t want to slow him down.
That last year with Moruzzi was a blur. He became the meanest when we were alone. But finally, and through hard work at school, I managed to get out, too.
I remember that day. When I turned eighteen.
I didn’t even bother to return home after work.
Tom picked me up. My pocket was full of money I was supposed to give Mr. Moruzzi.
“Ready to start your new life?” Tom asked. He looked good. Like he was having fun. I wanted to have fun, too. Though, I knew my upbringing had corrupted me, made me a dysfunctional person. Tom, Law, and I, we were going to make up for everything we’d lost.
I nodded. We left Chicago behind in a cloud of dust.
Craig’s allergic reaction excuse sent guests into a frenzy. Nobody noticed him limping into a tinted Lexus through the back door, escorted by a group of frat boys with receding hairlines and dad bods. One of them took the driver’s seat and floored it out of the estate. I slipped into one of the bathrooms to regulate my breathing and scream into the shower curtain.