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Contemptus


Many years have passed...excerpt from the next book Contemptus, the final chapters of despair in the twisted legacy of Beatrice and Clayton.

Jacob was full-grown now. A bright, sensitive son, he was the apple of Sadie's eye. Her only child, her only son had turned out as good as any mother could have hoped for. She had protected him well, as best she could, from the family secrets. She would always protect him, the son who broke the cycle of despair in a life that Sadie had grown up in. 

Jacob had taken the oath of honor, to serve as a public servant of the law, only wanting to do his part to keep murderers and baby rapists behind bars as long as the law would allow. He had a mission to keep innocent people safe, at least under his watch. Honor wasn't simply a code he was required to follow; it was a way of life for Jacob. 

Clayton, Grandfather, or, as Jacob called him, "Pop," couldn't believe it when he heard of Jacob's plans. Rage had built up, causing the veins in his neck to practically burst inside of him. He would be done with Jacob, pure and simple. Knowing that Jacob would never carry on the legacy that he had hoped for, he kept his uncompromising promise to never speak of Jacob's name ever again. 

A lot had happened, more than he had ever cared to think about. The upside-down, topsy-turvy past had revealed its ruthless self, and even now as Jacob performed CPR on his grandfather's lifeless body, he had doubts. 

Life worth living came down to honor; it wasn't up to him to decide for his grandfather, nor for his grandmother, Beatrice. Jacob's job was to do what he knew was right and let the law handle the rest. 

Beatrice laid the pillow back where it had originally been resting, behind Clayton's head. Her thoughts, her sanity, had scattered away to the winds months before, leaving her with only fragments and pieces of the world she once lived in with Clayton. She knew they weren't alone; in fact, the others had been the ones to remind her about the pillow. They knew that Clayton stayed drunk and abusive. It had been the others who had reminded her that drunks can't fight back, even to survive.