an endless loop of loathing, degradation and shame. The disgust of his situation ran through his veins like a poisonous venom.
Finally, on the eve of his 15th birthday, the poison spilled out. He had enough. After yet another threat to abuse him while watching TV, George jumped his father from behind. He swung without mercy, beating his father over the head with his fists and anything else he could get his hands on.
His father wailed in pain and shouted for help as George’s fists rained down again and again while George slipped further away from reality with each swing.
“You’re a piece of garbage!” the boy screamed. “You’re a loser! I hate you! You’ll never touch me again! I’m not your toy! I hate you!”
The police charged in and struggled to pull George off. A moment later would have been too late. He intended to kill his father. He thrashed without concern for the consequences, punching one of the cops in the groin while trying to break free. He screamed at the top of his lungs, “Let me kill him! That scum deserves it! Let me put him six feet under! Let me kill him! Let me kill him!”
Five months later, George’s stay in two juvenile mental hospitals had given him time to think. With his father serving 15 years in prison for his crimes, he finally had some peace. He had recouped much of his sanity and swore an oath—one he cherished and whispered 1,000 times—writing it down to carry with him always: “If I ever have children, I’ll protect them. They’ll never want for anything. I’ll never strike them in anger or make them suffer. I’ll never let them be touched in an inappropriate manner. My children will NOT suffer like I have.”
Later, in his adult life, George struggled in his marriage to Abbie’s mother, which caused him to break his oath. Instead of creating a sanctuary of safety, he gave Abbie a broken home. He hated his failure. Worse, he hated taking his daughter back to her mother’s home after their visits. The guilt tore at his heart.
His apartment was small, a two bedroom flat that had been elegantly decorated by the sweat of others. His hunger for the finer things in life was insatiable. He used others to get what he wanted, including countless women, spending most of his time living in their homes, emotionally tearing away at them until his needs were met. Once he had everything he wanted, he moved on without a goodbye or backward glance.
George took one final look at his beautiful Abbie, smiled, and pulled her bedroom door shut. Once it was secure, he turned and leaned against the wall.
“Damn, this is hard,” he mumbled. Rubbing his hands together to try to relieve the stress, he continued. “I won’t lose you, baby girl. I’ll fight. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you with me.” He reached into his front pants pocket and pulled out a summons.
George knew this would be the last time he would see Abbie until after the hearing. His ex-wife was suing for full custody and planned on moving out-of-state with her future husband. George was running low on the finances necessary to fight the fight. He did not have the wealth this new man possessed, but he did have a plan to fix the situation.
He sighed as he made his way to his room and fell across the bed. Tomorrow morning, he would press his Gucci clothes and drop off his little girl at her mother’s house before heading to work.
A big-time client was coming in from out-of-town, and George reveled at the thought of the commission he would make as a result of implementing this new plan. As a salesman for Turkman’s RV & Marine, George could sell ice to Eskimos if he needed to, and he’d lie at the drop of a hat to do it.
Early the next morning, George arrived at the dealership. The RV he planned to sell was fully loaded, right down to the 40-inch, flat-screen TV with satellite. George opened the door, bounded up the steps and headed for the window on the far side of the cabin. He removed the price sticker, and after a couple hours of careful manipulation, he had made a few perfect adjustments. He now had a new price, one almost $30,000 dollars over list—$970,000—and he would be damned if he did not hold to every penny.
His eyes turned cold as he stared at the numbers