Page 76 of I Am Salvation

Jesus fuck.

This derelict impregnated her when she was fourteen. Probably thirteen, because she would’ve been fourteen when she had the child.

I’m surprised she only has one.

And now that Griffin is gone, what is this asshole doing to her daughter?

“Is she okay?” I keep my tone even.

“She’s going through a rough time. She misses her mother. She just started… You know.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know.”

“She’s bleeding. She became a woman.”

“Jesus Christ.”

If he is abusing her, it won’t be long before he gets her pregnant. How in the world did Griffin get by with only having one child?

I’m going to be so fucking sick…

“I’d like to see her,” I say.

“Then I’d have to tell you where I am.”

“Yes, you’ll have to. I can make it worth your while.”

That seems to pique his interest. “Oh?”

“Yes. I’ve got money.”

“You don’t have shit,” he says.

“Fine. Maybe I don’t. But my girlfriend does.”

Referring to Diana as my girlfriend feels all kinds of right, and equally all kinds of wrong.

It scares me how much I want it. How much I want her. How much I actually want a normal life with a wife and children and a white picket fence.

But normal will never be possible for me.

That’s not important right now. If I have a niece out there, I have to help her. Especially if I can’t help Griffin.

The silence on the other end of the line is deafening, but it’s a silence filled with consideration. That one word—money—has captured his attention as nothing else has. Finally, he grunts in an ambiguous acknowledgment, neither a yes nor a no.

“Maybe we can arrange something,” he replies.

I can almost picture him now, sitting on a too-worn couch in a trailer somewhere, full of filth and neglect, clutching the phone between a grimy ear and shrugged shoulder as he strokes his scruffy chin, contemplating my offer.

Anger flares in me again as I imagine the conditions my niece must be living in. How Griffin was living as well. “I want proof that Bridget is alive and well before any arrangement is made,” I demand.

Silence again.

“You going to respond?”

“And how do you propose I do that without disclosing where we are?”

“Put her on the phone,” I say.

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