Petra stood by her father’s open grave site and thought, Damn – I hate this. Unconsciously, her right hip began to twitch. She pinched her lips, trying to suppress the nervous reflex she knew she could not control.
Why can’t I just cry like anyone else. Everyone would expect that rather than standing here looking like I need to pee.
So many wanted to expound on how great her father was, his impact on their lives, careers and the business he developed, a business she had inherited only four days ago. But his death had exposed a dark side of his life. It was the side that trafficked in young foreign girls one-at-a-time, kept in a safe house for his exclusive use until he tired of them and sold them to who-knows-where.
Copy and paste this URL into your WordPress site to embed
Copy and paste this code into your site to embed