Negan Kroger
Kroger family london neglect case
Negan and Beatrice Kroger parental rights terminated
All the links show up in purple because I’ve clicked them hundreds of times before. I’ve put these exact words in the URL too many times to count. The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.
I’m insane.
I search old addresses, relatives’ Facebook accounts, arrest records, the black market—even fucking porn sites, and what have I come up with? Jack shit.
A few nights a week, I stay up late looking for the twats who lost custody of and left their son then never came back for him. My birth parents.
I’ve had private investigators on it, and my mums have gotten the Requiem to look into it, but they always come up with nothing. So, it’s only in my hands now, but apparently, Beatriceand Negan Kroger fell off the face of the earth after they lost custody of me.
Muscles tense, I continue typing different variations of the same slew of words. One of these days, I’ll stumble upon something I haven’t seen before; I know it.
The bedroom door swings open, letting in the bright light from the living area. Thomas stands in the doorway, phone in hand, looking like a silhouette in the light.
“She’s gone?” he asks hesitantly.
The “she” Tommy is talking about is Linda, the housekeeper who stays next door to us. She usually shows up on her days off, spending the night with me, and then leaving the next morning.
“If she weren’t, you’d be interrupting.”
“It wouldn’t be my first time walking in on one of your one-night stands.” Thomas shudders. Then, his eyes fall on my computer. “You had her leave tonight, yet you’re still awake.”
He flicks the light on, and I shield my eyes at the flash. When I get used to the light, I’m met with Tommy’s sad, half-frowning face. He’s not stupid; he knows what I’m doing.
It is too late at night for me to listen to Thomas’ pleas for me to give it up.
“What do you want?” I groan. “It’s one a.m.”
Thomas doesn’t push it because he already knows how it’ll end. He kneels before the bed and sets his phone between us. “Mummies are on the phone.”
It’s already on speaker when Mum speaks. “Rip? How are you?”
“Spectacular. Do you realize how late it is?” I grunt. We’ve been undercover for a week and a half, and the first call we get from them is before the sun rises.
“Watch your tone, Rip.” That’s Mother, her voice way stricter and more commanding than Mum’s. “No one cares what bloody time it is. Why haven’t we heard from you both?”
“We’ve had to transform into creative social media marketers while trying to get close to the most indifferent person I’ve ever met. But yeah, sorry we forgot to call with the nonexistent updates.” I say, my tone dripping with sarcasm.
“You’re lucky you’re ten thousand miles away,” she practically growls, and I shiver. I am lucky. No one wants to be on the receiving end of Emma Redgrave’s wrath.
“Calm down, Emma,” Mum soothes. “He’s tired.”
My mumsdefinitelywin the award for being the most patient people on earth. They took in a twelve-year-old with anger issues, who would yell, break shit, and even get violent, yet managed to keep him from turning into a much darker, unstable version of myself than I am today.
Granted, maybe bringing an aggressive child into a crime syndicate wasn’t a stellar parenting choice. But because of the organization, my anger had somewhere to go, so it wasn’t the worst option.
“Sorry, mums,” I mumble, feeling like a kid again. “Things have been going okay. Thomas is a social media genius. He’s gonna be the reason the Beaumonts give us a full-time position tomorrow.”
The end of our two-week trial period is at the end of the week, but Xavier will have his decision on whether he’s extending our employment tomorrow.
“Well done, Tommy!” Mum exclaims.
My brother grins from ear to ear. “It’s kind of fun. If the Req needs someone to advertise, I’m your guy.”
