Undead L.A. 2 Read Online Free PDF Page A

after that, but only for a while—only until Diora got raped and left for dead by the water. Makayla had no trouble pointing out the man who did it. Randy told the girls to watch as he put the blade of his knife to the man's throat and made him beg for mercy. Five full minutes of blubbering later he slit his throat and left him lying face down in the dirt choking on his own blood. Makayla cried and ran off, but Diora just stared. She'd never felt so proud of her father in her entire life. As far as she was concerned, death was too good of a fate for a man like that. She'd have preferred to see him castrated, then cut up into pieces a little at a time for what he'd done to her.
    It was over before he really had a chance to be sorry. I'd have made sure he understood what he was sorry for. If only Jamal had been around back then.
    That night men in uniforms came to take the body away. There were lots of them, men in cars with bright lights, men with dogs on leashes barking and scouring the banks for clues. There was even a helicopter overhead with its big beam shining down on them to make sure her father couldn't get away, but Diora knew it was all just a big show for the television cameras. Her father never had any intention of trying to get away. He knew better. Life didn't work like that, not for people like them. He sat quietly by the side of his car in an old lawn chair drinking a beer while they made their way through the area. For a brief moment, Diora thought maybe he might get away with it. The men in uniforms seemed to walk past him like he wasn't sitting there, like he was less than garbage and they couldn't be bothered to give him a second look. Eventually, however, other folks in the tent city began to point towards their car. It didn't take long for them to figure out what had happened after that, or who was responsible. The knife he'd used was stuck in the ground near the driver’s side door and there was blood stained down the front of his shirt and jeans. A big guy with a mustache came stomping over, grabbed her father by his shirt, and jerked him to his feet. Several more men surrounded him, guns drawn, as the big hero read him his rights. Her father never made a sound as they took him into custody, cuffing his hands behind his back and pushing him roughly into the back seat of a patrol car. He looked over at Diora and gave her a wink. It was the last time she ever saw him.
    Social Services placed them with a foster family in Tacoma—Tim and Karen Snodgrass. They were nice people, but a little too clean and a little too Christian for her taste. Makayla, on the other hand, seemed to genuinely love them. She fit perfectly into their idea of family in a way that made Diora almost jealous. They bought her new clothes and dressed her up like a doll . She was the child Karen could never have on her own. Diora knew her father wasn't coming back for them. She knew she didn't belong there, but that didn't mean she was going to fuck up her little sisters chance at happiness. She kissed Makayla on the forehead the night she left, climbing out the window and practically running through the neighborhood towards the interstate, towards freedom and a new life where her past didn't haunt every single moment of her waking life.
    She managed to hitch a ride all the way down the 5 to Salem, then made her way into town to the Salem Center Mall where she met Scott, a pretty boy with long hair and effeminate mannerisms, at the local Hot Topic. She'd only been planning on getting him to buy her a slice of pizza, but he when he learned she had no place to stay he'd insisted she come home with him. There she had her first sit down meal since as long as she could remember. Scott had told her that he didn't get along with his parents, that his dad was overbearing and his mom didn't understand him, but sitting there watching them interact as a family made her green with envy. She'd have killed to have just a taste of what Scott took for