Page 19 of 4 Corinthians

“You can’t feel anything, like at all?” she asked, and I shook my head. She sat back in her spot against the cage and sighed. “You’re lucky.”

“No, I’m not,” I told her. “Robert fights me because I can't feel it. He said that I’m almost perfect because of it.”

“Almost perfect?”

“Almost,” I said, nodding. “He said if I didn’t feel emotions, I would be perfect.”

“I just don’t want to feel pain,” Corinthians mumbled. “That way I could fight, and my sister wouldn’t have to.”

“Robert has your little sister fighting?” I wasn’t even surprised.

“Not yet,” she answered, shaking her head. “She’s somewhere else.”

“Where?”

“With Mr. Jonathan,” she replied. Her face twisted like she was going to cry, but the tears never fell. “I would fight every day if I didn’t feel pain, so she didn’t have to go with him.”

I knew what Jonathan did to kids; I had seen and heard it. If Corinthian's little sister were with him, then I wish she couldn’t feel pain either.

“Cori?” I called her name after the silence was too loud. I moved closer to her corner and sat down. Our heads touched through the gate, and I stuck my hand through the railing to hold her hand.

“Mmmmh?” she replied without looking at me.

“I’ll stop feeling emotions to get you and your sister out,” I told her. I didn’t know how I was going to do it, but I would try for her.

Corinthians

“Come on!” my daddy pulled me out of the car, and I glared at him. “This shit isn’t an option!”

“I don’t want to!” I yelled and pulled back. We were at another house, this one bigger than ours but smaller than Robert's. I was tired, hungry, and my body hurt, but that didn’t mean anything to my daddy. “I don’t want to!”

“You don’t have a choice!” he yelled and grabbed me by the shoulders. “Corinthians, you don’t have a choice! This is our only option! This or I die! Is that what you want? For me to die?”

“Yes,” I replied, staring him in the eyes. For almost the last year, I had been fighting, getting beaten by Robert, and barely seeing my family. I missed Madea, Granddaddy, and my cousins. We moved from our house to another one across town, closer to Robert. They put me in a private school, and I was lonely. The only times I got to come out of the house were for school, to fight, and to be with Robert. Robert was always there, watching, telling me what I did wrong and how to get better.

“You don’t mean that,” he said, shaking his head. For a second, he looked sad, like I had hurt his feelings, and it made me smile. I wanted to hurt him so that he could get even a small amount of what I was feeling regularly.

“I do,” I said, nodding. “I want you to die so that I don’t have to do this!” I pointed to the house behind him. “I don’t want to do this!”

“Too fuckin’ bad,” he said, then stood. “You’re doing it.” He dragged me away from the car and up the short walk to the front door, then knocked. “And if you keep fighting like this, I’m going to have Robert put that fuckin’ collar on you.”

I stopped moving then. I hated that collar; it was heavy and had spikes on the inside. I’d seen Uri have to wear one just like it. Kenbral didn’t. Over the past few months, so much has changed with them. Kenbral spent a lot of time at Robert’s side, not saying anything but just watching. Uri continued to fight, beating everyone put in the ring with him, which made Robert happy. But that didn’t stop Uri’s punishments. He spent a lot of time in the water tanks or hanging upside down on the table with me.

The front door opened, and Jonathan Franklin stood on the other side of it. He looked down at me and smiled, then turned to Daddy.

“I see you’re on time,” he said, stepping back. “I was starting to wonder if you were going to show.”

“I said I would be here,” Daddy said. He grabbed me by the back of the neck and guided me into the house.

Jonathan closed the door, then pointed to the room to our left. “We will be discussing business in there,” he told Daddy. Daddy nodded, and then we followed behind Jonathan. The house felt cold; the sound of the air running hummed softly, and it smelled like Mr. Clean.

We walked into an office, and Jonathan went to sit behind the desk while Daddy stood in front of it. “Stand over there, Corinthians,” Daddy said, pointing to the wall near a big window. I slowly walked to the wall and put my back against it.

“Have a seat,” Jonathan instructed Daddy. Once he sat, Jonathan sat and leaned back in his chair. “So, you are ready to discuss her price?”

“Yes,” Daddy said, nodding. “You have a year to figure out what you want to do with her.”

“I have,” Jonathan agreed. “And I have a price set.”