The Daughter, C.B. Cooper [ink book reader TXT] 📗

same thing from the boardwalk.
Bug had signaled the big beast of a woman to their table and was dickering with her for a roll in the hay. The two finally came to an agreement and Bug bid him a goodnight, as they strolled away, arm in arm, the buffalo and the stick bug.
Frank pushed away his empty glass and stood, making his way to the bar.
The barman was a chubby Irishman, with thick red mutton chops and a cigar stub clenched between his teeth. "What do ya want?"
"That girl, the one that’s cleaning, how much is she?"
The barman frowned, "She aint fer sale."
Frank smirked, "Everything's for sale— for the right price." He had a ten dollar gold piece, burning a hole in his pocket, that said so.
The big Irishman shook his head. "When I bought her from her daddy for the price of a jug of whiskey, I promised him that I would keep her pure until she was twelve. Come back in a year and we'll talk."
He was getting ready to walk away when Frank slapped the ten dollar gold piece on the bar, "Then I take it her old man aint around. So who's gonna tell him?"
The bartender stared at the gold piece thoughtfully, while chewing on the stub of his cigar. He squinted up at Frank, "I'm usually a man of my word…"
Frank slid the money closer to the man, "Ten dollars is a lot of money for something that your eventually gonna charge… what? Two dollars for?"
The bartender was still trying to decide when Frank slapped another two bits down, sliding it along the scarred wood to rest beside the ten.
The man looked up from the money, staring hard at Frank, then without taking his eyes off of him, he yelled out of the side of his mouth, "Molly! Git on out here!"
While they waited for the girl to appear, the bartender leaned across the bar, speaking quietly, but conveying the seriousness of it with his eyes, "You better be gentle with her." Then, he punctuated his next words with short jabs of his index finger, "If I hear any screaming coming from up there," he turned and pointed to an express gun hanging on the wall behind the bar, "I'll come up there and blast your dick off."
Frank smiled, drunken excitement lighting his eyes, "I'll treat her good." he promised, his dick already hardening in his pants.
Down the bar, Frank watched as one of the two remaining pleasure girls casually walked up and leaned on the end of the bar, but he could tell that she knew something was going on, and was just trying to get closer to hear what was going on.
Finally, the back door swung open and the girl walked out. Her big brown eyes looked fearful as she walked to the bartender.
"Y-yes, Mr. Collins?
The Irishman looked at her gruffly, but his voice had taken on a softer quality, "Molly, you need to go with this gentleman here."
Her huge eyes appraised Frank fearfully, "W-why?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
Frank smiled at her, trying to ease her anxiety, but her eyes only bulged more, and took on a shiny quality as tears brimmed to the surface.
The bartender bent and whispered into her ear.
Frank watched her gasp, as the tears spilled over her lashes and trailed down her face. Finally she nodded and slowly walked around the end of the bar, her head down.
Frank grabbed her hand and started toting her toward the stairs and the rooms up above.
As they neared the far end of the bar, the easedropping whore, pushed off from the bar and blocked their path.
She smiled up at Frank as she ran a hand along his chest. "My friend and I," she tipped her head indicating another girl lounging at the bottom of the stairs, "would like to offer you a little 'two for one' deal. Baby, we would do ya real good."
Even as she smiled, purring against him, he seen the fear deep in her eyes. And his suspisions were confirmed when the whore looked down at the little girl. She was afraid for her.
"Get out of my way," he growled, pushing her aside as he continued toward the stairs.
The redhead there smiled nervously and tried to block his path also. "What does a big strong man like yourself, want with a little girl like her? She aint nothing but a child, but Rosie and I could show you a real good time."
The whore smelled like she had bathed in a vat of old wilted roses. The smell was overpowering and made his eyes water. Wrinkling his nose against the stench, Frank brushed by her, mounting the stairs. Halfway up, he heard one of the pleasure girls turn on her boss, "What the hell, Ed! She's just a child! How could you!"
Frank listened for a reply, but the air was filled with silence— guilty silence. He squeezed the little girls hand, "Molly, is it? That’s a real purty name, for a real purty girl."
A sob escaped the girls lips, as she hung her head even lower, her little hand trembling in his.


Morning light filtered through the sheer curtain covering the window.
Frank groaned and turned his head into his pillow to block out the light.
His head was pounding and his mouth was so dry, he couldn’t even muster up enough spit to swallow. The air inside the room was stifling. He threw the covers off and rolled onto his back, one arm thrown over his eyes.
As he lay there trying to cool off, images from the night before flashed through his mind. The big injun that Bug shacked up with, the burly bartender and his two whores, and lastly, the little girl with the dark hair and big brown eyes.
What was her name? Missy? Maggie? No, it was Molly. Sweet little Molly.
She had been so scared. All she had done was cry, sobbing in his ear, making it hard for him to concentrate. He remembered having to clamp a hand over her mouth to keep her quiet.
"Hey," he nudged her with his elbow. "Wake up."
He had paid twelve dollars for her and he planned on getting his monies worth. Hopefully she wouldn’t be as scared this time, all that crying…
"Molly, wake up."
Frank turned his head and looked at her. She was laying on her back also, her head turned towards the far wall, but he could see enough of her right eye to know that she was awake and her eyes were open.
Rolling onto his side, he shook her, "Wake up, damnit!" he growled harshly.
There was still no response. She was playing possum, and Frank didn’t like it. He shook her harder, rocking her little body.
Her head rolled on the pillow towards him. Her eyes were open, but unseeing. They were glazed over. She was dead.
"Oh, shit!" Frank whispered. His heart stopped, then started again, beating wildly in his chest, then it leaped again as a knock sounded at the door.
It was one of the whores. "Molly, honey? Are you awake?"
Frank panicked as he watched the knob jiggle. But thankfully, the door was locked.
"Molly?"
Frank grunted, "Go away! She's busy."
There was silence from the door, then her voice came again, irritated but concerned, "Molly? Are you okay?"
"I said she's busy! Now go away so I can concentrate!"
When the whores voice came again, it was cold, "Ed wants to see her downstairs. You have twenty minutes."
Rosie backed away from the door, a frown lining her tired face. Something wasn’t right, she could feel it. She had lied about Ed wanting to see the girl, the slob was still fast asleep downstairs, but not for long. Rosie planned on going down and banging on his door until the lazy bastard woke up. Then she would insist that he come up here.
Walking towards the stairs, she stopped and pressed a hand to her stomach. Her belly gurgled. She would have to wait to wake Ed up, right now she needed to get out to the outhouse— and fast.
Frank listened to her footsteps fade as she walked down the hall.
Turning back to the girl, their faces inches apart, he tried to remember what had happened. He remembered holding his hand over her mouth because all of her crying annoyed him, and because he was afraid that Ed would hear her crying and come on the run with his scatter gun. But she had still managed to make noise as she struggled underneath him, so he had wrapped his hand around her neck, squeezing just enough to silence her completely.
Obviously a little to completely.
"Shit," he whispered, his mind racing. How was he going to get out of here before anybody discovered the girl? Then he remember seeing an outside staircase on the side of the building. He needed to find that doorway.
But what was he going to do with the girl?
He couldn’t help staring into her eyes. They were so wide, and the way they caught the light from the window…
He reached out with two fingers and lowered her eyelids, but as soon as he let go, they popped open again. He tried a few more times, before he finally gave up. Her body was already stiff, the flesh stuck, inanimate.
But then as he watched, her eyelids began to close by themselves, until they were completely shut.
Good, he thought. Her eyes all glazed over and staring back at him, it was creepy.
But in the next moment, they popped open again.
"What the hell…"
As he watched, the pupils in the middle of her eyes began to expand, increasing, until the brown of her eyes was completely black.
Frank slid his head back an inch on the pillow, frowning as he studied her face.
He sucked in a quick breath as he watched a thin, silver band of light pass across the black of her eye, then she blinked.
"Jesus Chri…" his words were cut short as the arm furthest from him, swung around, a heavy silver candle stick that had been sitting on the bedside table was clenched in her small hand. As it swung down, it smashed into the side of his skull.


When Frank came to, his head was ringing and his hands and feet were tied to the bed, and a rag was shoved deep into his mouth.
He rolled his eyes around the room, until he spotted her.
She was standing at the window, humming, as she looked down at the street, her back to him. Outside a storm raged, pelting dust and dirt against the window. Thunder boomed and cracked in the sky above, and even from inside the room, he could hear the sizzle of lightening as it streaked through the sky
Without turning around, she spoke, "Oh good. Your awake."
Her voice sounded much different than it had the night before. She no longer sounded like a little girl. The voice sounded much older, and it echoed, like she was speaking from inside of a well, or a cave. Hollow.
Turning from the window the girl moved toward the bed, her black eyes glittering with a weird light. She looked similar to the girl who had spent the night in his bed, but she was much paler, like all the blood had been drained from her body, and her lips, he seen as she drew closer, were a bluish-purple.
Her head was bent at a funny angle too, like she