The Dirty Saint (Dirty #1)

19. Chapter Nineteen

19

Chapter Nineteen

After

EZRA

“Mom—”

“D-did they t-touch you? Did they r-rape you? Oh, god,” my mother puts her mouth to her palm, her sobs brushing up against it.

Her voice shakes. “How could God have allowed this to happen?”

The same reason he let you abuse me all those years.

I keep that thought to myself.

“I don’t know,” I whisper. “But I wish I did.”

Giselle Maya wipes her nose with her sleeve, a sight I never thought I’d witness.

“I read your diary. I shouldn’t have. I didn’t have the right to, but it was open and I, I just wanted to know.” Guilt wraps around my mother’s throat, nearly choking her. “It was wrong of me, and I know there isn’t any justification for my actions. It’s just that you’re my child , and you’ve been through so much—most of which I know nothing about.”

“You don’t wanna know,” I say. “You think you do, but it won’t change anything. All it’ll do is lead you to places you don’t wish to go. Trust me.”

“Did you really feel like you weren’t cherished growing up?” My mother asks, changing the direction of the conversation. “Is that why you desired love from people who didn’t deserve it?”

Her question catches me off guard. I think about it for a moment before sitting down beside her.

It wasn’t necessarily love I was seeking. I just wanted to be…a ccepted , I guess. I wanted people to care for me the way I hoped they were capable of.

My whole life, I felt like there was something wrong with me. That there was a reason as to why I always felt alone. I had a big family, and you’d think that wasn’t possible, but everyone was preoccupied with their own lives and their own shit.

It wasn’t necessarily affection I was searching for. It was companionship. It was another presence that would be there for me when I needed someone.

Because at some point, I grew tired of simply only having myself.

The men I serviced; I knew they weren’t good for me. Or to me. But they were there, and they existed, and I became comfortable with that. I was already so used to the abuse, but this time it was…different. It wasn’t as predictable in the beginning, and I found that to be…oddly exciting.

“I need you to think long and hard about what you’re asking from me. You want details of the most excruciating chapters in my life story. I just don’t know if you’re ready.”

Tears fill my mother’s eyes, and she brushes them away. “It doesn’t matter if I’m ready or not.”

“But it does,” I say. “Because what I’m about to tell you is not just upsetting or heartbreaking, it’s horrific. Like some sick nightmare you can’t ever forget.”

My mother grabs my hands in her own and kisses them gently. “ Please , Ezra Evaline. I am begging you. I need to know what that man did to my daughter.”

I yank my hands out of her grasp. She flinches, but I ignore her.

God, how am I supposed to do this?

I start by taking a deep breath.

“Before I learned it was Michael Santo who was in charge, I had spent my days living as a hostage. I wasn’t given much food or water. I was chained up and had to piss in a bucket. The second I would close my eyes, the door would open, and someone would come in ready to beat the shit out of me or rape me.

“Michael didn’t have sex with me until about a week after we had reunited. He barged in one night holding a gun, which was weird because he always used to talk about how much he hated weapons. Said they were unnecessary.

“You ever read the book Haunting Adeline by H.D. Carlton? You should. It’s one of my favorites. Well, there’s a scene in which Zade, one of the main characters fucks the other main character, Addie, with his gun. It’s a pretty dark part of the book, but then again, the whole book is too. Anyway, that’s what Michael did to me. The only difference is the safety was off in case I didn’t pleasure him enough. Also, he had a knife pressed to my throat the whole time.

“But I think the worst thing he ever did, though, was threaten to take Noah away from me. He said that once he did and my actions were revealed, he was going to finish what he had started.”

I had to survive a lot when I was kidnapped, but I figured out early on how to play the cards in my favor. I learned that the best way to ease the pain of a broken bone was to sharpen a plastic knife on the wall and use it to pry open my own flesh. Just a little. That way, I wasn’t focused on my mangled bones.

But Noah was and will always be off limits. I made that incredibly clear. You want to torture me until the sun comes up and goes back down? Fine. You want to rape me into oblivion? I can cry about it when I’m alone. My son, on the other hand, will not get brought into my shit.

Tears are spilling down my mother’s cheeks. When she brushes them away, they come right back.

“Mom, say something,” I whisper.

She gazes up at me, shattered.

“He really did all of that to you?”

I nod.

“Yes.”

Her head falls into her hands. “No, God, please no,” she whimpers. “It can’t be true. Please, God, don’t make it true.”

I place my hand on the small of her back, rubbing it gently. She’s shaking, and it’s like I can feel her coming undone.

“I wish it weren’t,” I say in a hushed tone.

So many nights, I prayed that it was all just one big nightmare. That there was a possibility I could wake up from it and forget it ever happened.

But I never did.

My mother brushes a strand of hair from my face and tucks it behind my ear.

“I am so sorry, Ezra. For everything. You, you didn’t deserve that.”

A small smile makes its way to my face.

“But he’ll come back,” she pats my leg and then sits up straighter in her seat. “Prison will be good for him.”

I push away.

“What are you talking about?”

My mother folds her hands in her lap, and confusion fills my body like a fountain.

“Did you not hear what I just said?” I snap. “Michael Santo is not coming back from this. How the hell could you even think that? Were you listening at all to me?”

“Of course I was. Look, I’m not making excuses for what he did to you, but I’m sure if my son went missing, I would be angry too.”

A hearty laugh makes its way out of my throat. My mother glances at me strangely.

“I did go missing,” I holler. “Your child did go missing, you idiot! ”

“Ezra!”

I get up, outraged.

“You just can’t help yourself, can you? You need to make everything about you when it’s not. Why can’t you just accept that the man you thought you knew turned out to be a monster?”

“He is your father’s best friend; practically a brother to him. He has been a part of your life since you were a child—”

“And then he took me away from mine,” I finish.

“And you took his away from him,” she adds.

I shake my head, my heart breaking inside my chest.

“Get out,” I demand.

“Ezra—”

“Get the fuck out of my house!” I repeat. “And don’t you ever come back. I mean it. If I see you in this home ever again, I will make sure you pay the price.”

Hurt flashes across my mother’s face, but the amount of sympathy I have towards her right now is damn near zero.

“What about Noah,” she asks.

“What about him?”

“Will I still be able to see him?”

I want to say no. Never again. But I don’t. My son won’t lose another person in his short life.

“Yes, but not for you. But because he doesn’t deserve any more pain.”

And neither do I.

* * *

I lay in my bed, unable to drift off to sleep. The side next to me feels even emptier than usual, and I’m picturing my husband draped in the sheets, which isn’t making anything easier.

After a few more minutes of twisting and turning, I grab the photo of Chris and me off the nightstand. Our wedding day. The two of us are surrounded by greenery; trees and flowers of all types. We are both smiling and grinning, me in a white mini dress and him in a button-down with khakis. I run my finger over his face.

He was so handsome. With his sage-green eyes and light brown hair, he looked like a movie star. But never mind his physical features, he had a heart of gold. He loved every piece of me, even the broken ones. When we met and he discovered I was pregnant, he didn’t even hesitate to be there for me and the baby.

Christian had always wanted a family of his own, as did I.

So it was a perfect match when he found me passed out on some random park bench on what was otherwise a simple Tuesday afternoon.

“Mom?”

I turn to see Noah in the doorway, clutching his stuffed animal, Buck. His voice is stained with sadness.

“Yes, buddy,” I ask.

“I miss Dad.”

A wave of grief suddenly crashes into me, nearly knocking me off balance. I move over and pat Chris’s side of the bed. “Come here.”

I reach out my arms, and Noah falls into them. I pick him up and cradle his tiny body to me, tightly.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” I say.

He nods, his bottom lip trembling.

“Today at pick up, Luka’s dad came. Luka was so excited. It was all he could talk about at lunchtime. Marci told me her dad was getting her from school, too. And it made me sad because sometimes, Mom, I want Dad to get me.”

I look at my son, admiring him like he’s a piece of artwork. I mean, that’s what he is to me. A masterpiece disguised as a little boy named Noah.

“It’s alright, bud. In fact, it’s okay to feel the way that you do. I’m sure it isn’t easy to see your classmates with their dads. I know I get sad when I see people with their husbands because I don’t have mine anymore. And believe me, I want my husband so much.”

Tears escape Noah’s eyes. “It isn’t fair,” he cries. “How come Dad had to go live with God?”

“I—”

The words get lost in the back of my throat.

I realize then I don’t have a good answer. Or really a clue as to what to say. Nothing will change the fact that Christian is gone and not coming back.

However, I am going to try my very best for my son.

“Noah, do you remember when I told you that Dad was in a lot of pain before he died?”

“Yeah.”

“Well he wasn’t getting better, no matter what he did. And his pain made him extremely tired.”

“So why didn’t he just go to bed and get some extra sleep?”

I smile ever so slightly.

Bless my sweet, curious boy.

“I wish it worked that way, I really do. But unfortunately, sleep wasn’t going to heal Dad.”

“So, did he go to the doctor,” Noah asks.

I nod.

“He did.”

“Then why didn’t they make him better?”

Tears are now spilling from my eyes, which I hate. I don’t want my son to see me fall apart like this.

“I don’t know,” I whisper, getting choked up. “I wish I had the answers for you, sweet pea, but unfortunately I don’t.”

Noah drops his head, sobs racking his body. I hold him close to me, kissing the top of his head as he cries.

“It isn’t fair, Mom.”

“I know,” I murmur.

“I hate God,” he says angrily.

I put my hands on the side of Noah’s face, looking him in his saddened eyes. “Why do you hate God, buddy?”

“Because he gets to have Dad, and I don’t.”

“Can I let you in on a little secret,” I ask.

He nods.

“You know what an angel is? Yeah? Well, guess what? Dad is an angel now, and his job is to guide you. In fact, Dad was with you the other day when you made it past all of the monkey bars without falling or slipping.”

Noah sits up. “How?”

“Because,” I answer. “He’s your angel. And he goes wherever you go. So even though he isn’t physically here, he isn’t gone completely.”

That seems to make Noah happy. He lays down, resting his head on my pillow. I do the same.

“Does that mean that Dad is always with you too?”

I grin.

“Oh, of course. I’d yell at him if he wasn’t.”

Noah giggles, and I kiss the tip of his nose.

“You can always come to me when you’re sad, bud. I will always be here . ”

“Thanks, Mom,” Noah kisses me back. “I love you.”

I smile. “I love you too.”

* * *

That night, I dreamt of her.

I should’ve known my body was capable of such betrayal.

Anyway, Lana Pipperty was the girl who was brought in to traumatize me.

I remember the first time Joey and I met her. Fear lined the lids of her eyes. She barely spoke. She refused to look at us.

Everything in me told me this girl wasn’t making it out alive.

During

JOEY

I wake to the sound of low, muffled cries. It’s a sad sound, but it isn’t deep, and I know that when Ezra cries, she does so with her whole body. She doesn’t try to fake her pain.

“I’m s-sorry,” a voice says softly. “Go back to sleep. Please.”

When I turn my head around, I see a young, blonde girl with tear-streaked cheeks and bright red, puffy eyes. She must be a teenager, but her face makes her look even more youthful.

A sharp ache tears through me.

Why is this girl here? Unless she killed someone or is involved in some high-level crime, she isn’t the usual clientele.

“What’s your name,” I ask.

She doesn’t answer.

“It’s okay,” Ezra says, her back pressed against the wall, shackles wrapped around her swollen ankles. “You can tell us.”

The young girl is reluctant, and honestly, I don’t blame her. She is chained up in some random man’s basement, away from her friends and family, completely unaware of what is going to happen to her.

“L-Lana,” she finally lets out. “My name is Lana.”

“Well, then, I guess my parents must have disliked me from the beginning. Here you are being named something so beautiful, and I’m stuck with the creepy pedophilic teacher from Pretty Little Liars.”

Lana cracks a small smile at Ezra.

That’s my girl.

“Not to mention my middle name. Evaline. Like an old fucking lady.”

Lana smiles again and it sends a sadness through my body. I know what these people are capable of—hell, I’m the one who taught them, and her innocence will be destroyed by the time she makes it out.

If she makes it out.

“How old are you, Lana?” I ask.

“Twenty-Two.”

“Where are you from?”

“I—”

Lana stops herself from answering.

She’s nervous, which makes sense. She has every reason to be apprehensive about talking to us.

“We aren’t going to hurt you,” I assure her. “I promise.”

Ezra holds her hand out to Lana, who, after a few moments of simply staring at it, grabs it.

“We are going to keep you safe. Believe me, they put a hand on you, and we will rip out their throats with our teeth.”

Lana nods.

“I see you two have met our newest addition.” Michael walks into the room, holding a half-eaten burger. He grins as he walks over to Lana, whose eyes are now filled with anxiety. “Isn’t she pretty?”

“Prettier than you,” Ezra scowls. “Which isn’t hard because you have a face that could make even the grim fucking reaper cry.”

She sneers. “You are a fucking coward who has to bring in someone else to get me to talk, because you aren’t capable of doing it yourself.”

A cold-hearted slap rings through my ears and I watch Ezra place her hand on her cheek, a red mark already starting to form.

“Case in point,” she drawls.

“Ezra.” I seethe.

“God, look at you, standing there with your damn McDonald’s. I hope your food was poisoned. In fact, I hope it’s the type of poison that takes hours to work so that I can laugh and applaud as you die. What a gift that would be.”

Michael snarls and grabs Lana by the throat, who lets out a high-pitched squeal. “Is this what you want?”

“Let her go, Michael,” I urge. “She’s just a kid.”

“So? My son was just a kid when Ezra,” he points to her, “Murdered him in cold blood.”

Ezra rolls her eyes.

“There’s no goddamn proof.”

“Oh, there will be,” he barks.

“Well, you’ve had me for a long time now, and you’re still coming up short.” Ezra makes an L with her pointer and thumb and rests it on her forehead. “Fucking loser.”

She laughs.

“Oh, you think this is funny, Ezra?” Michael inquires.

“By the way, you’ve got some spit on your upper lip. Might wanna wipe it off.”

Michael shakes his head. “You filthy bitch—”

“Do you kiss Nancy with that mouth?”

“I swear to God—”

“God doesn’t like swearing—”

Mid-sentence, Michael sends a nasty right hook to the side of Ezra’s jaw. Her head rears at the contact.

Lana looks frightened.

“Look, Michael,” Ezra cuts in. “Come at me all you want, but I’m not the one who kidnaps people and chains them to a basement.”

“No, you’re just a killer.”

Mistrust now glistens on Lana’s skin.

With a snap of his fingers, like a summoner, Michael calls for Dom to join us. He points to Lana, who is visibly shaking. Dom smiles, and it ignites a panic inside of me that is burning me from the inside out. I feel like I’m on fire.

“I brought you a gift,” Michael Santo says. A shit-eating grin makes its way to Dom’s face.

What I wouldn’t do to smack it right off of him and shove it up his ass.

“You’re a sexy little thing.” His eyes fall on her round tits and her flat stomach. I can see the wheels turning in his brain, and I want to crush it in my fucking fist. “You can’t be older than 21.”

“Don’t you dare touch her,” Ezra and I shout, almost in unison.

Dom runs his finger across her bottom lip.

“You don’t get a say in what I do with her because she’s my gift, freaks, not yours.”

“You’re the fucking freak,” Ezra snaps. “About to fuck a terrified twenty two-year-old.”

“Twenty-Two? Even better. Means her pussy has barely been fooled with.” He licks his lips and I cringe. “It’ll be so tight wrapped around my cock.”

* * *

“Please don’t let him rape me. I, I don’t want him touching me.”

“Lana.”

“He scares me,” she whispers.

I turn to her, wishing I could go over to her and console her the best way I could. Ezra’s probably better, being a mother and all, but I have two younger siblings and a nephew.

I’m not all monster.

“He is not coming near you. Don’t worry.”

The young woman nods, looking down at the ground instead of at me.

“H-how long have y-you been here,” she asks.

It’s a simple question but one that comes with an even more complicated answer.

“I don’t really know,” I say.

“What about Ezra?”

The last I checked, it’s been a little over a month. Thirty-three days, to be exact.

“A long time,” I answer.

Lana’s bottom lip trembles. “Do you think I c-can m-make it o-out of here? Is it p-possible?”

The answer is on the tip of my tongue. The cold, hard truth.

But I just can’t bring myself to say it.

“Yes. It is possible.”

Her eyes light up, and for the first time since I’ve met her, she seems hopeful.

I don’t want to be the one to take that away.