The Poster Girl

Mr. Wraith was on edge. It had been a week since Mallory disappeared, and the clock was ticking. Redford had fled the country. 

"That little weasel," Mr. Wraith cursed as he sipped his fourth glass of whiskey this morning. Since Redford left Mr. Wraith alone in this mess, he had to call a private investigator, Mr. Wyatt, to find that little possum, Mallory. And when he did, Mr. Wraith would kill her, and he would make sure that she was dead this time. 

But he would enjoy that tight little skank one more time before he did. 

He grinned as he poured himself another glass of whiskey and felt his pants tighten.

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Mrs. Wraith had walked on tippy-toes the past week. Her husband was a ticking time bomb, and she did not want to be the one to stand next to him when he exploded. God no, she kept her distance and told Calvin to do the same, especially since her husband had beat him up badly a couple of days ago. 

Mrs. Wraith had had enough of this life and wanted to get away from her husband's grip to save their son from this curse that haunted the Wraith family. Calvin was nothing like his father, but she sensed that it wouldn't be long until he was, and then he would be beyond repair.

Mrs. Wraith was never violent, but after years of abuse from her husband's family, she, herself, started to feed off the weaker, and poor Mallory had sadly been everyone's punching bag. 

Before Mallory, little Lola had been the one. Oh, poor Lola. Mrs. Wraith shivered as she wondered what that poor girl's fate had been after her husband's outrage one night. 

At least Mallory had been given a chance to run but with no papers and no social experience... She was the perfect victim of a crime.

After an encounter at a social event, Mr. Wraith decided that she would become his wife twenty-five years ago. Mr. Wraith was thirty years old and the CEO of A huge family company at the time. He made an offer to her father, who eagerly accepted it and married her off without further discussion. So, at eighteen years old, Ms. Lily Thompson would soon become Mrs. Wraith, lost in the hands of a sadistic man and his evil family. 

After years of abuse, she was broken into their lifestyle. After birthing their son, she was let off the hook, fulfilling her purpose by breeding and keeping the Wraith family's men going for another generation. Sickeningly? Yes. 

This family was a wicked one, wickedly evil, with generations hiding terrible secrets of abuse and murders of young girls.

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Hunter hurried home early in the morning after a night of the crime, eager to return to Mallory's side. She was still sedated, and Ana was sure that she would have to be in that state for a few more days so her body could focus on healing and healing only. 

Hunter let himself into his house, quickly locked the door after him, and set the alarm back on, a safety procedure. 

You could never be too sure about his life; someone could stand ready to take you down if you'd been slacking.

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Hunter didn't know Mallory's name yet, so he had been calling her freckles since he spotted a few around her nose beneath the scaring. "Hello, Freckles!" Hunter mumbles as he sits beside Mallory's side. 

Ana had told him that Freckles still could hear and react to voices, so Hunter had been talking softly and calmly while holding her little hand in his. At first, he felt stupid and rambled about football and different ways of cooking a fish filet. But as the days went by, Hunter had been more personal and opened up with her; in a way, only Blade knew him. 

This was a different experience for Hunter; he found himself attached and very protective over this fragile little girl.

Hunter thought of himself as a fair man, even though his parents failed him. Early on in life, he promised himself to never lay a hand on a woman the way his father had been doing on his mother. 

Because the second a man does, the second his hand touches the skin of a woman with the purpose of hurting them, that's the second that man loses his right to be called a man. That's the second that man becomes a coward and should be shamed, walking through the city while the citizens shame him before he gets locked up.

"When is she supposed to wake up?" Blade entered the room and walked up to Hunter's side. Blade had offered to stay back that night and watch over Freckles so Hunter could deal with their boss's plans and keep up with the gang.

"A few more days, then if Ana is happy with her healing process, she might wake her up." Hunter mumbles, and Blade nods. 

"I think I figured out why she's so familiar," Blade said as he sat on the chair next to Hunter. "Go on," Hunter replied, and Blade took a deep breath, "Remember when we were seventeen and spent a week in Dublin?" Hunter nodded, and then it hit him, "The poster girl?" Blade nodded, "Yeah, it might be her?" Hunter was puzzled. 

One day before they flew back to London, a little girl had gone missing, and the buildings around the city were covered with posters of a cute little girl with long red, wavy hair and piercing blue eyes.

Hunter and Blade had felt sorry for the girl's family but then forgotten about it.

"You sure? She could have been found?" Hunter replied, a little unsure.

"I did a little research, and it turns out that she's still missing. They released a picture of how she could look today at eighteen!" Blade reached Hunter's phone with the picture opened up, and Hunter took one look and was sure it was Freckles.

"Sadly, I also found out that her mom passed away from cancer a few months ago, and the father is unknown!"

"Unknown?" Hunter asks and frowns... Blade shrugged, "Yeah, it was a little weird; it was like he never existed. But who knows, he might not want to be involved in his daughter's life; it seems like the mother was raising her alone." Hunter was torn. How can you not want to be a part of your children's life? Even if you are a shitty parent.

"So she's alone? No relatives?" Hunter asked, and he felt a knot in his stomach. "Sadly, the mom was the only one." Hunter sighed. 

Who knew how much evil this little girl had endured these thirteen years. He squeezed her hand reassuringly, promising to protect her from whoever had tried to silence her, believing that she was dead.

Thirteen years ago.

"You either back off, or you will regret that you ever walked on this earth!" Mr. Wraith roars as he glares at the awful human being before him, this wicked outlaw who thought he could suddenly play by the rules. 

Oh no, no one threatens the Wraith's family business unpunished. One single shot was fired, and Mr. Wraith walked away, not knowing he would make the same mistake he did that night, thirteen years later with his daughter.