The Filthy Few (Iron Disciples MC) Read Online Free PDF Page B

city.”
    “I’m sorry Morgan, but there was an accident and he was
killed instantly. He didn’t suffer and there was nothing anyone could have done
for him. He’s gone.”
    That’s when I attacked Mr. Peters. I’ve never thought I was
a violent person but something just snapped and I tried to shoot the messenger
so to speak. Fortunately no one blamed me for my reaction even though he walked
away that day with fingernail marks going down one of his cheeks. After the
anger subsided the grief set in and completely took over my life for what seemed
like forever. They say kids are remarkably resilient but not me. I didn’t
bounce back from that day; ever. I think I am still grieving and still angry
even after 14 years has passed. My aunt and uncle came and got me that day and
took me home to their house. At first I thought it was going to be a temporary
situation but I soon realized it was permanent. No way would the state let a
grieving teenager live by herself. Relief came from a completely unexpected
source two the day after my father’s funeral. We were at home about to clean up
after dinner when my aunt suddenly asked an odd question.
    “So what did you think of your birthday present?”
    “What?” I asked, totally confused. “I never got a present.
Dad always gives it to me at our favorite restaurant but we never got to eat
obviously.”
    “I wasn’t actually talking about that. What did-?”
    She stops mid-sentence. “You never got the letter.” She
surmises.
    Now it was my turn to be confused. “What letter? From who?”
    “We have to go to your house.” Proclaims my aunt.
    “I’m tired. Can’t we go after school tomorrow?”
    “No, we can’t. This is very important so get your shoes on
and let’s go.”
    So I found my shoes and followed her out the door, wondering
what was so damn important that we had to go right away. When we got to the
house she insisted I stay in the car while she and Frank (my uncle) looked for
it. That, I thought was very odd. But maybe they thought it would be too hard
seeing everything again so I stayed put. It took about a half hour for them to
find this mysterious letter and they looked very relieved when they got back in
the car. They didn’t say much on the way back to their house. When we went
inside my aunt handed me an envelope addressed to me and from, amazingly, my
mom, who happened to be my aunt’s older sister.
    “Take this upstairs to your room so you can read it in
private. Later if you need to talk about it just knock on our door.”
    “But how?” I was dazed and very confused.
    When my sister found she did not have as much time as she
thought, she wrote letters to you and your brother to be given out at different
times of your lives. She gave them to me for safekeeping and I swore an oath
that I would make sure you received them all, and on the appropriate times.
This one is for your 14 th birthday.”
    “Does Jaime know?”
    “No, and please don’t tell him. On September the 12 th he’ll receive his first letter for his birthday. I want it to be a surprise for
him as well.”
    My curiosity satisfied, I went upstairs and carefully opened
my mom’s letter. The second my eyes read the first words I could feel the tears
begin, but then all of a sudden they get all chocked up in my throat and
nothing springs forth. It’s not that I didn’t feel anything; I did, I do. But
it all stays buried deep, far from the light of day. Sometimes it is physically
painful. I feel the sorrow so intensely and the tears begin to well, then
suddenly it’s like turning off a hose or something; nothing comes out. It’s
crazy. Sometimes it almost feels like I’m holding my breath or something and I
have this desire to take a deep breath; to have an intense cry, but it doesn’t
happen. It would feel so damn good to cry. So I sat there on the edge of my
bed, all choked up, and began to read.
     
    My dear sweet daughter:
    Happy fourteenth birthday honey. I know this is