Six Brothers

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Some people would call me a whore. A girl who sold her soul to the devil. Who let him inside her, with no remorse. Who danced with the monster who destroyed everything.

To those people, I say only this: I didn’t have to sell Dornan Ross my soul. He already owned it. And once I’ve killed him, maybe I can get it back.

When I think about life before Juliette Portland supposedly died, I think of the midday sun, and the way it caught the water, making a million tiny diamonds glisten in the Venice Beach waves. I think of laughter and first kisses, of ice cream, stolen beer, and Ferris wheels.

I think of how much I loved Jason Ross, and how valiantly he fought to protect me when the rest of his family were beating and fucking me to within an inch of my life.

I think about my father, and how whenever he was near, I felt safe, no matter what.

I think about my mother, and how indifferent she was to my existence, to the point where my father was going to take me away from everything, including her, so that we could have a life free of the constant danger that a club like the Gypsy Brothers meant.

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