Chapter 8: Remainder of school

The first day back at school, there were a lot of seniors missing, especially girls. Before the holidays, I had my girls keeping an eye on a few of the addicts that I thought were going to need help. Almost all of them were missing from school. I wasn’t sure what to think. Was somebody else going after these girls? Were we fooled and Bitch’s family weren’t the masterminds? Was there some other explanation. To be on the safe side, I went to my psychology teacher, Mr. Clark, and asked him if I was missing something.

He replied, “Trent, I am not surprised. If you look at girls rescued from the sex trade or slavery and they are older than 15 they tend to go back to the life on their own. I think it has something to do with how they adapt in order to survive. They end up thinking they deserve it. Very few can make a recovery no matter the circumstance.”

“So then, the best way to help them is to let them be whores but, make things safer for them?”

“I’m not sure I would put it that way, but it would be better than doing nothing or doing the same thing everybody else does, and failing miserably. Besides, there is a moral issue. I can’t tell my student to go after a bunch of women to turn them into whores, can I?”

I didn’t think his theory held water. Most of the girls in question hadn’t been prostituting themselves long enough for their minds to be reprogrammed like that. It was still a better theory than I had.

The only way I could test his theory was to find some of the missing kids and I had a chat. The missing girls tend to be the ones that were under the influence the longest, so there was a chance he they were conditioned as he said. Since the brothel was closed when the blackmail material was leaked, I figure they would either be at some drug den, or at the only strip joint in town. The drug den because some of them would be sabotaging their lives, and the strip joint because that would be the easiest place to pick up a john. The bonus in this town was that the only strip joint was in the same hotel as the drug den. I got to the strip joint and there was no place to park. All the spots are taken. I parked in the alley behind the movie theatre. Usually, there was almost nobody at the strip joint. Their strippers tend to be used up druggies, not worth looking at, and the customers were old men or fat slobs that most prostitutes would refuse.

I went in there and it was standing room only. The women were walking the floor completely nude, which isn’t normal, and they were all a lot younger than the usual strippers.

In the hotel, most people that paid for a room, paid for it by the hour, but not for sex. It was the way to buy drugs. You went to your room and as soon as a dealer was free, he meet you there. Walking around I saw a lot of the girls had track marks from needles. They walked the floor and then took a john up to a room. They would come back in about 15 minutes. I talked to a couple of stripers and let them know I could get them a larger dose of my drugs if they meet me outside in an hour. The bouncer recognizes me as the one that had set up the drug rehab program with the Erikssons and had seen that I was not fondling anybody. I was just chatting with the girls and they appear happier for talking with me. The bouncers closed in on me. I didn’t want to make a scene. I wanted to be able to get back in here if I needed to, so I left before something could happen. As I left, I noticed one of the strippers working the floor was Lilian. Mr Eriksson wasn’t into prostitutes, even if he was, he wouldn’t prostitute his granddaughter. His racket was real estate and oil exploration. He did have some whores, but just enough for him. Given his ruthlessness, I didn’t want him to get control of the girls. I decided to take a chance and gave him a call to tell him where I found his granddaughter. That was a mistake. The following morning the strip joint and hotel were burnt to the ground. There were about a dozen people killed in the fire. Most of them lowlives that deserved it, but two were girls just trying to figure out how to live after they became addicted to my drugs

The girls that escaped with me that afternoon, I had to experiment on in order to determine if Mr. Clark was right. I took them to a hotel down the block. It was a run down place that white men avoided because it had the native bar. Any white man that entered that bar didn’t come out alive. The hotel was relatively safe as long as you stayed out of the bar. Nobody would think to look for the girls there.

While taking them there and instructing them on their future, I was harsh. I pushed them around, and treated them like property. In front of the girls, I phoned some johns and let the johns know I had discounted girls. I forced the girls to work for me. I also let them know their access to free drugs for their rehab was contingent on them working for me. These girls I called my whores. They were not top end escorts, like my girls. As beautiful as these girls once were, they should have been top escorts. Given what the whores went through, they were no longer classy girls and there was no way I could market them as such. They were cheap whores.

I only made them work enough to pay their expenses. Technically I didn’t own a brothel. Brothels and pimping were illegal in Canada. All my girls and whores worked out of their home, so we were still legal. I wanted them all in one building, but then the cops would shut that down as a brothel. If that happened, I couldn’t protect anybody. As we collected the whores, we were forced to spread them out among the hotels and apartments we could rent.

The day the hotel burnt down, I had a meeting with my girls. As a result they started compiling another list of all the girls missing from school. We needed to figure out who all needed help. It turns out I had made a big mistake or I would have been able to see this problem a mile away.

The brothel was around long before Patty betrayed us. They built their stable the old fashioned way. They would kidnap a young girl, then chain her to a bed and feed her hard drugs for a week. Once the new whore was hooked, the girl was forced to do tricks for drugs. Once the girl was used up, typically in their mid to late 20s, she would be abandoned and forced to live on the street. She would become the ugly old street walkers that frequented downtown. When I had the brothel closed, I had only focused on helping the whores I felt responsible for. I think my actions had a lot to do with my sister. She was never kidnapped and drugged. She volunteered to be their whore. She just wanted play money and enjoyed the sex. Since that was my experience I never thought about her coworkers and how they became whores.

I was too late to help the older girls. The Hells Angels owned the biker bar. With all the street meet needing work, and the sleazy strip joint gone, the Angels turned their bar into a classy strip joint. They didn’t want girls hooked on drugs they had no control over, so they left alone the girls I was trying to help. Most of the rest became property of the Hells Angels. The girls were there one day and gone the next. The Angels own strip joints all over the place, and so, the girls went on a rotation, never staying any place longer than a month. 5 years later I stopped of at their strip joint and ran into my old babysitter. She was one of the girls they took.

The week after the fire, I pretended to get mad at my whores, “You are all a bunch of dumb bitches. You will never make me any money as retards. A refined man with money wants an intelligent girl on his arm, not a bimbo. Go back to school. If I do not see good grades there is going to be hell to pay.”

My Psych teacher was right about some of the girls but not most of them. Most of the girls hadn’t been whores for long and could return to normal living. Or, they could have if the community didn’t treat them like shit. A typical parent didn’t know what to do with their victim daughter and made matters worse by how they treated her. Other parents disowned their child, even though she wasn’t responsible for what happened.

There were too many things going on with the whores. I couldn’t treat them all the same. The ones that I could make top end prostitutes and call my girls I did. I had to treat the whores in such a way that would work on the majority of them, so I became the asshole boss. I couldn’t control all of them, especially being an ass. To take care of the ones that didn’t respond well to tyranny, I assigned each of my girls some whores to look after. Some needed coddling, others abuse.

Chelsie didn’t like it one bit. “You can’t ask me to mistreat people after everything you did to straighten me out. I know they need it, but you are turning me back into the bitch I used to be.” She was in tears. I held her until she stopped crying, then told her I was sorry and I didn’t want that either. I reassigned the whores, giving her only whores that needed coddling. I was already loosing Chelsie and I didn’t want to push her away any faster than she was already going.

New years wasn’t the only time Chelsie went out on her own despite the rest of the girls doing something together. She also wasn’t always at home when I went to her in the middle of the night. I didn’t blame her. She deserved a life and a man of her own. I new she was seeing somebody. I was just waiting for her to tell me.

Once people had seen what the Angles were doing, and they understood how much at risk their daughters were, they saw me as the lesser evil. There were actually a handful of families that brought me their daughters. One family gave me their daughter even though wasn’t addicted. They thought she would eventually head down the wrong path and figured this was some pre-emptive strike. Two fathers brought their addict daughters and their younger sisters that never tried the drug. I took the younger girls, but refused to let them sell themselves until they come of age. Until then they worked as maids.

Another unexpected thing was the Mennonites. There were Mennonite colonies all over this part of the country. Some sects had a tradition, when a child came of age they were given some money, so they could survive, then were kicked out of the colony. After a time, they were welcomed back. The theory was that the child will see how the heathens live, and see that our way of life wasn’t for them. It worked because the child wasn’t equipped to survive in our society, and would end up experiencing nothing but the worst of the outside world. One day one of two of my whores came knocking on my door with a Mennonite chick that just turned 18. The Mennonite decided she wanted to experience sex. She also needed money and a place to live, so why not have a universal solution. She was expecting an abusive pimp and not to be accepted into a family. I showed her how much of what she was taught about the world was a lie. I did take her cherry. Hers would be the only Mennonite cherry I would take. The rest I would contact rich johns that wouldn’t harm them, and auction off their cherries. Each Mennonite girl that came to us, we accepted without question.

We were growing to fast. By the end of the month I had 17 girls and 48 whores. I stopped sleeping with all the girls and rotated through my Mormon sisters. Sometimes including one of my Mennonites. I could no longer rely on my reputation to keep my girls safe. I needed some men. Having the muscle compliant to suggestion wouldn’t do. At first I hired out Mennonite boys. That lead to my next great betrayal.

Thankfully I was forced to diversify. There wasn’t enough Mennonite muscle to be had, so I made what I thought at the time was a bad call, but it turned out to be a good one. At the time, I trained at 2 different martial arts gyms. One was a Tai Kwan Do gym that was a good place, owned and operated by one of the nicest, most honest people I knew. Unfortunately, he and his son don’t live long. I couldn’t use anybody from there because they were all upright, moral individuals. The other was an underground gym owned and operated by the smallest organized crime outfit in town. It was the Filipinos. They all trained in stick fighting, Aikido, kickboxing and boxing. They were the best group of non-professional fighters I have ever met.

The Filipinos were a theft ring that would break into people’s homes and steal everything. They had no morals and usually stole from the poorest people in town. I hated how they target people that couldn’t afford it, but preying on the weak was their safest option. If they stole from the wrong rich person, like the Erikssons, they would be killed. I know I call them Filipinos but half of them where white. Most of their leadership were Filipinos and they had a bit of a Filipino culture.

I didn’t know it at the time, but it was the Mennonites that fenced the stolen goods for the Filipinos. My taking the Mennonite’s added muscle pissed them off. Had I known, I would have done it anyway. I just would have gotten rid of my Mennonites first. Anybody that says Mennonites are pacifists have no clue about Mennonites. By summer I would find that out.

As a result of my hiring the Filipinos, the home burglaries almost came to a halt. The Filipinos were getting paid more for less risk and getting free pussy. They loved the agreement. It also helped me make ties in other cities for when I wanted to move.

By February, things were working smoothly. My girls and whores had protection. We were raking in the money. Everybody was back in school. The whores were even servicing the care home, so Grandpa was happy. My sister now lived 7 hours down the highway with her dealer, so I never saw her in town anymore. Life was great, or so I thought. Once again we were hurt because somebody refused to speak up. Jes left a suicide note, claiming she couldn’t stand the pity she mistakenly perceived and that her sister would likely be better off without her. I think Valentines hit her hard. She felt she was useless, because in her words, “I’ll never be pretty again.” That part of the note hit me hardest. I had tried over and over again to let her know how beautiful I thought she was. She was brave in how she helped her sister and to me, the scars were only a reminder of the size of her heart.

Thankfully, Beth was cleaning Yana’s room when we discovered the body. It was Mary who found her in the tub. After that, we had Beth sleep with Mary. That way Beth could have somebody to watch over her. That night I had Mary and Cindy switch apartments. I didn’t want Mary in the apartment where she discovered her dead friend. It was the only time I slept with Beth before she turned 18. We didn’t have sex and we wore bed cloths, something Mary and I weren’t used to. I cuddled with Beth and Mary until about noon the next day. I let them take the day off school but told them they had to go the next day.

Jes’ note stated she thought I would fuck her out of pity, or just so she wouldn’t feel bad because I spent more time fucking Mary. I should have spent more alone time with her, but how was I supposed to know she was that bad? She never said anything until the suicide note. It was her responsibility to let me know when there was a problem. I am still mad at her for that.

I didn’t want to make the same mistake with Beth as I did her sister. I made sure she wasn’t alone for the next 6 months. The only privacy she had was to shower and use the toilet. The rest of the time there was somebody to make sure she knew she was loved, wether she wanted it or not. Like anybody would, she felt like it was people pitying her, but in the end, she understood and was grateful.

The experience also helped her to learn to love herself. Living with her parents, it seemed like nobody loved her. She didn’t have a good relationship with her sister. Her stepdad stole her mom away from her, and her stepbrother was going to eventually rape her. It was only the short time she spent with her sister, after Jes was assaulted, that she learnt how much Jes sister loved her, and knew with her gone Beth had a large family that loved her, even when she didn’t want them to. I just wished it was not me that helped them out. My heart grew more closed off with every incident and I was concerned I might start to hurt her.

I knew I didn’t have time for heartache, I needed to get to work and fix the school. There was only so much time until graduation and who knew what else would pop up?

Jody took biology with me in Mr Arnold’s class. Mr Arnold was a sexist, pervert and pedophile. To keep the story legal we will not mention anything more about his pedophilia and how or if we caught him on video. I suppose I should mention Jody was a guy. I gave him all kinds of advice on how to get rid of the pervert legally and without blackmail. Jody tried all the legal means. He presented evidence to the school office and then the school board. He made a petition and every one of Mr Arnold’s student’s and some people not in his class signed it. It didn’t matter what Jody did, it was no use. That might have had something to do with the office and school board being corrupt.

While Jody was trying everything he could, I was flirting with the youngest secretary to gain her trust, and drug her. Eventually she accepted a morning coffee from me. I would come back between each class until lunch, when she was extremely pliable. I took her out for lunch and we talked about the corruption in the office and the vice principal. Chrissy, the secretary, had evidence of somebody embezzling funds, but didn’t know who. I figured it was Mrs Greenbottom, the vice principal. It was her style and I knew she had some game going. I had Chrissy come home with me that night. After supper Marry, Chrissy and I went back to the school and tore the offices apart until we had it all figured out. We didn’t get any sleep that night, and barely got the office sorted out before people started showing up for school. We did get everything photocopied and put back, so nobody could tell we raided the place. It turned out the only two people in on the embezzlement were Mrs. Greenbottom and Mrs Higgenback. Higgenback was a student counsellor that sucked at her job and regularly told students to quit school.